


Unexpected Surprises

by Jess_eklom



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Trowa, Dark Quatre, M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9631472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_eklom/pseuds/Jess_eklom
Summary: It is Quatre's birthday and though he doesn't care for celebrating, Heero and his lover Duo, get Quatre an unexpected birthday present.AU - Inspired by a Tumbler promptWarnings: AU, BDSM, Dark!Quatre, Dub-Con/coercion, Bottom!Trowa (subject to change in later chapters), sex for money, harassment





	1. Happy Birthday, Quatre

**Unexpected Surprises**

Notes: This was a prompt that I found on Tumblr ([here](https://weiclown.tumblr.com/post/156325656617/dark-quatre))

Also, this is unbeta'ed - hot off the presses. 

Warnings: BDSM, Quatre being a bastard, Dub-Con, Bottom!Trowa

 

 

Quatre rolled his head, hearing and feeling a very satisfying crack from his neck as he did so. It was past closing time, but that was only in his local time zone. He still had some loose ends to tie up and the west coast was still well within the normal business hours and demanding his attention. Always, they wanted his attention. Luckily for Quatre, he thrived on business deals, and despite his youthful appearance and slightness of frame, he was known to be a terror in the boardroom. Between himself and his best friend and business partner, Heero Yuy, they’d made Winner Enterprises International one of the most formidable corporations on the sphere (much to the chagrin of his sisters).

He was putting the finishing touches on his email with contract corrections when he was broken out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. Glancing at the clock, Quatre frowned. It was nearly eight in the evening on a Friday night. Who could possibly be in the office other than himself?

“Come in,” he called out, finishing his email and hitting the send button.

The door opened and there stood Heero, a hand in his pocket and his suit jacket draped over his shoulder, leaning against the doorframe. His messy brown hair and deep blue eyes, paired with the designer clothes and relaxed posture reminded Quatre of an ad for men’s wear. If the man hadn’t already had a partner, and if they both weren’t so overly competitive, Quatre would have considered seducing his friend.

“You’re still here,” Heero said, looking unsurprised.

“So are you,” Quatre pointed out, powering down his laptop for the evening.

“It’s your birthday,” Heero said, raising an eyebrow.

“And?” Quatre asked, feeling a bit cheeky. “You going to spank me? I’d like to see you try,” he smirked, stuffing his laptop into his bag and hitched the strap onto his shoulder. He grabbed the suit jacket he’d draped over the back of his chair and moved away from his desk. “Connie bought me birthday cupcake this afternoon and she bought sheet cake for the office. I think I’ve made note of it enough for one day. It’s those very distractions that made me get behind in my work. I hate it when they make a big deal about my birthday, it’s just another day,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“So you say,” Heero shrugged, “But since it _is_ your birthday, and you’ve probably cancelled whatever birthday celebrations your sisters and/or secretary have gone through the trouble of throwing for you, as your best friend, I’m obligated to at least buy you a drink.”

Quatre laughed as they both made their way down the hall and into the elevator. He pushed the button that would take them to the basement parking garage and gave Heero an amused look, “Obligated? That sounds like a certain SO gave you an ultimatum,” he smirked. “What are the terms?”

Heero had the decency to flush. For as much of a hard-ass that he was – and Quatre would know, they’d met at a military-like boarding school and became friends through competition; both vying for the top spots in everything – the stoic man practically melted for a long-haired neo-hippy bohemian-type. The guy Heero was seeing had a ridiculous braid of hair that went down to his ass, and he was always going on about something or other. Last week it was composting. The week before that, he was working on an installation for the local park. The month before that, he was consumed with a sustainability workshop that he’d helped organize, followed by a massive abandoned tire pickup campaign.

The guy was nice enough, and Quatre didn’t disagree with much of what the guy was into, but the fact that he was so … free spirited, shopping at thrift stores and making things out of nothing, made him the opposite of Heero in many ways.

“Duo said that as your best friend, I am obligated to buy you a drink on your birthday, and since it’s your thirtieth, we are to give you a present,” Heero ground out uncomfortably.

Quatre laughed. He could only imagine how the enthusiastic Duo had phrased that, but he didn’t press. “Alright, I’ll go along with it. Where’s my present?” he asked.

Heero shrugged, “Duo’s taking care of that. He says I’m ‘a bitey present getter’ … whatever that means.” The elevator stopped and both men made their way to their respective vehicles, “Follow me to that bar you like – the one at that fancy hotel that used to be a brewery.”

“You mean the Emma?” Quatre asked.

“Yes, that one. Duo’s going to meet us there. We’ll treat you to dinner if you’re feeling up to it,” Heero suggested.

“Done. But get ready to drop a few hundred,” Quatre chirped.

“Asshole.”

 

\--

It didn’t take long for the two men to arrive at the hotel and make their way to the restaurant bar, where Duo was already waiting for them.

Heero kissed Duo gently in greeting, then took a seat. Quatre couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Did they have to flaunt it?

“Q-bean!” Duo chirped, hugging Quatre enthusiastically – which Quatre put up with, mostly because he was partially winded – “Happy birthday, man! The big three-oh! How does it feel? It’s a pretty big deal. Have any plans for the weekend?”

“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” Quatre ground out, but Duo didn’t seem to care. “And thank you. It feel like any other day. I’m planning on checking in on some contracts tomorrow, but that’s about it. Iria wants me to join her for lunch or dinner, but I don’t know that I will.”

“Aww! Why not?” Duo asked, as they both sat down. They paused their conversation to order drinks and appetizers and when the waiter was gone, Duo looked at Quatre with a raised eyebrow. “You know, you’re practically a Scrooge on your birthday – AND Christmas.”

“I don’t celebrate Pagan holidays,” Quatre pointed out.

“It’s not PAGAN!”

Quatre leveled a look at him, “Do your research; yes it is.”

“SEE? Scrooge Mc Duck!” Duo crowed. “Now what do you have against your birthday?”

“You’re mixing up your references,” Heero chimed in, but then answered for Quatre, “Leave him alone. He’s celebrating now.”

Duo sulked, but let it go, “Fine, whatever. We got you a present!” He had on a Cheshire cat smile and a look in his eyes that Quatre simply couldn’t decipher. “You wanna know what it is? You’re gonna love it! I went through a lot of trouble for this one, because I love my Heero, and he, for some reason loves you.”

Quatre didn’t like the way he said that. “You act like I’m an unlovable bastard…”

“Well if the shoe fits…” Duo muttered, but looked away embarrassed when Heero gave him a look and bumped his knee.

“He didn’t mean that,” Heero began. “You and I are hard to get to know. And you ARE a bastard,” he smirked.

“Takes one to know one,” Quatre grinned, giving Heero a smirk. He then gave Quatre an openly lascivious look, “I could take _you_ for my birthday,” he said, looking rather predatory. “I’ll show you how much of a bastard I can be…”

Duo, for his part, looked like a cornered mouse, and Heero coughed uncomfortably, “Quatre, behave. Quit scaring my boyfriend.”

Quatre rolled his eyes, but backed off in his intensity, putting his hands up in a placating way, “Fine, fine,” he said, letting the waiter interrupt them once again to deliver their appetizers and drinks and then take their dinner order.

The conversation was pretty light from that point on. Heero and Quatre talked shop for a little bit and then Duo gave them a rundown of his latest project. He was organizing a community gardening effort and they were using all sorts of found things to make planters and organize the space that had been donated to the cause.

At about 11, Quatre checked his watch and called for the check. It was getting a bit late and he’d had enough socializing for one day. As he got up to leave, Duo stood abruptly, “Hold up. I have to give you your present,” he said, digging into his back pocket to pull out his wallet.

Quatre raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“Here,” he said, pulling out a plastic card in a little paper sleeve, with the number 3-4 written in lovely handwriting, and handing it to Quatre. “Happy birthday. Enjoy.”

Quatre took the card in the sleeve and looked it over. The sleeve had the hotel’s name written in script across the top, and pulling out the card, he could see it was a key card for a room.

“What’s this?” he asked, trying his damnedest not to get angry. What were they trying to pull? Why in the world would he want to stay in a hotel on his birthday when his house was only fifteen minutes away?

Heero cleared his throat, “Quatre, don’t be upset, I can already tell what you’re thinking… but we thought it would be a good idea for you to wind down a bit this weekend…”

“Yeah, and you need to get laid,” Duo quipped, before turning bright red and hiding behind Heero.

“Get. Laid.” Quatre deadpanned, giving Duo a murderous look until he couldn’t see him any more – at that point, the look was transferred over to Heero.

Heero, having already paid the tab, grabbed Quatre by the arm and walked him out of the restaurant and into the hotel lobby. “You have been a right bastard lately, Winner, and if you don’t get your skinny ass up to that suite we booked and fucking _enjoy_ your present, I’m going to personally schedule a month long vacation for you, book a flight to your father’s house, and tell all your sisters that you want to have an extended family reunion this summer. AND I’ll lock out your credentials so that you can’t get any work done,” he threatened.

Quatre jerked his arm away from Heero’s grasp and gave him a dark look, “You wouldn’t. You CAN’T. We have an important merger in the works!”

“Then do as I say,” Heero ground out, standing firm, crossing his arms in front of him. He’d only let go of Quatre once they were at the elevators. “I don’t want to hear from you until Monday and I expect you to be considerably more relaxed.”

“You both are on my shit list,” Quatre hissed, but straightened out his jacket and brushed invisible lint off his arm where Heero had manhandled him. And, without further ado, he savagely punched the up button on the elevator feeling quite irritated that Heero (and Duo), hadn’t and wouldn’t leave until he was inside.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and with a one-fingered salute to his ‘friend’ and his SO, Quatre stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor.

On the ride up to the third floor, Quatre was glad that he had the elevator to himself. He was fucking LIVID with Heero! How dare he get Quatre a prostitute?! He wasn’t THAT pathetic! He just wasn’t interested in having anyone in his bed at the moment. Why was that so wrong? And besides, any potential lovers he did entertain needed to be of a certain caliber… a certain… persuasion.

The elevator dinged and Quatre stepped out onto the floor, looking around for the room numbers. Two and three were labeled right in front of him, so he took a right turn, guessing that is where room 4 would be.

This is stupid, Quatre thought to himself as he inserted the key card into the lock and waited for the lock to disengage before turning the handle. Duo and Heero deserved to lose their money decided; he was going to tell whoever the poor girl (or boy) was that her (or his) services would not be required.

That thought firmly in mind, Quatre stepped into the dimly lit room and nearly tripped over himself, seeing what was laid out for him. He let the door close behind him with a soft click and took another few steps forward, not sure that he could believe what his eyes were seeing.

On the bed, looking sinfully decadent, was the most handsome man that Quatre had had the privilege of laying eyes on. He was long and lean with broad shoulders, washboard abs, and sun hissed skin. He had legs that seemed to go on forever, and pleasantly muscled arms that were currently flexed as the man lay reclined, with his hands behind his head.

The man looked young – younger than Quatre knew himself to be, anyway – with dark brown, almost reddish hair that was cropped short at the sides, but fell over part of his face, obscuring one eye. Quatre’s hands suddenly itched – he wanted to run his fingers through that silky-looking fall of hair. And beyond that hair, a pair of impossibly bright green eyes were looking at him, appraising him, and must have approved – a pink tongue emerged from a soft-looking mouth to lick plump lips that Quatre suddenly wanted to devour.

“Hello,” the young man said, shifting on the bed, sitting up, partially Indian style. One leg was bent at an angle on the bed while the other was bent, but with his foot planted on the comforter, giving Quatre a spread-legged view of the package between his legs that was only hidden by a thin layer of black fabric from the man’s athletic boxer briefs.

“Hi,” Quatre said, kicking himself for losing eloquence, but how could he not, given the Adonis before him?

“Are you the birthday boy?” the tall man purred. “You look a little young to be turning thirty,” he said, giving Quatre a sweeping look, making his cock throb in his pants.

Forget what he’d been about to do – This man was bought and paid for and Heero wanted him to have some fun, so fun he would have! Quatre couldn’t even remember the last time he’d indulged in a man, let alone one that looked as fucking delicious as the morsel on this bed. Suddenly, he had the urge to see that man bound and gagged, begging at his feet, nuzzling Quatre’s erection, while blindfolded and writhing in a lust induced haze.

No. It was too soon.

He slowly took off his suit jacket and set it on a chair while he loosened his tie, “That would be me. And are you my present?” he asked, coming a little closer. Surely such a specimen couldn’t be his to enjoy!

“I am,” the tall man purred, unfolding his legs as he climbed off the bed, coming closer to Quatre, his skin – beautiful and unmarked – flushing slightly.

“What are the rules?” Quatre asked, breathlessly. He knew how to play _a_ game, and that is how he intended to handle this. “If you’re my gift, what are you here to offer?”

The man paused, looking adorably confused. Either he was new or he wasn’t a professional – yet.

“Beg pardon? I thought – Duo said I’m to get you laid,” he purred, coming closer, almost stalking, in his approach.

The man finally stopped in front of Quatre and reached out, but Quatre caught his wrist. He looked up at those confused, but curious eyes and leaned in, while his other hand found purchase at the back of the tall man’s neck, pulling him down as he spoke, “I want to fuck,” he whispered, his breath hitching a little. “I want to kiss those lush lips of yours until you’re breathless, and then I’m going to play your body like a violin before I finally let you cum.” Beneath his hands, he felt the taller man tremble and Quatre smirked. Got him.

He leaned in and kissed the tall man, ravaging his sweet mouth, loving how the man resisted a little as Quatre had had to pull him down for that kiss. Quatre Winner did not tiptoe for anyone – literally or metaphorically. He buried his fingers into the hair at the nape of the tall man’s neck and proceeded to claim that mouth with a probing tongue, sucked on the man’s lower lip, and stole his breath away. When he let the taller man go, the man was flushed, his eyes frightened, but excited, and out of breath.

“If you want to leave, do it now. Otherwise, undo my belt,” Quatre commanded as he kicked off his shoes.

“I need the money…” Quarter heard the young man say as he sank down to his knees to undo Quatre’s belt buckle, slipping it out from the belt loops on his slacks.

Quatre, meanwhile, tossed his now undone tie onto the bed and began to undo the buttons on his shirt, looking down at him, licking his lips, “Need the money? That’s what I wanted to hear,” he purred, smirk on his face, “If you’re good tonight, I’ll double what they paid you for an encore at my house… But that’s a big IF.”

He dropped his shirt onto the nearby chair and then followed it with his undershirt before threading his fingers through the young man’s hair and pulling back, forcing the kneeling man to look up at him, “What do I call you?” he asked.

“My name is Trowa,” said the man with the green eyes.

“Trowa,” Quatre cooed, “You may call me Master.” He felt the young man on the floor tense up but Quatre didn’t let him go. “You need the money, don’t you Trowa? And are you getting paid well for being my bitch tonight?” he asked.

The word made Trowa flush, and a certain amount of anger crept into his expression, which gave Quatre a little bit of a thrill. “Yes. Master.” He ground out.

“Good. I haven’t had someone as gorgeous as you at my feet in a very long time. I’ll go easy on you tonight, but I will not be disobeyed. Open my pants and finish undressing me,” Quatre said, keeping his hands in Trowa’s hair, not letting him go anywhere.

With slightly trembling hands, Trowa did as he was told. He unfastened the slacks before him and let them slide down slender legs, followed by grey briefs, revealing smooth pale skin and a nest of dark blond curls at the base of an engorged deep pink erection.

Quatre stepped out of the clothing, his penis bobbing slightly and inched forward. “Lick it,” he ordered.

“B-but,” he began to protest.

“I’m clean,” Quatre told him, his hands pulling on Trowa’s hair a little, “but since I can’t be sure about you, I’ll make sure to use rubbers when we’re in bed.

With a shuddering breath, embarrassed at how the blonde made him feel dirty, Trowa licked his lips and then leaned in, licking the flared top of Quatre’s erection tentatively. It did make him feel better that they’d be using condoms as the night progressed… licking him couldn’t hurt, right?

“More,” Quatre told him, urging him to use that tongue and groaned as Trowa complied. “Take me in your mouth,” he purred, spreading his legs a bit as he rocked into that sinfully sweet mouth, delighting when Trowa put those big hands on Quatre’s thighs to keep him from thrusting too hard.

Quatre wanted to fuck his throat desperately, but that could wait… yes. He could wait until this young man was in his toy room, a thick black collar around his neck and his leash in Quatre’s fist. Quatre wasn’t large, but he wasn’t small either. He knew how to use his dick and he got a thrill at making pets choke on it now and again. He shuddered, stamping down on the thought. No. It was too soon. He wanted to enjoy this.

Resolved, Quatre pulled Trowa’s hair, pulling his head away from the dick he was sucking. The cool air that hit his now damp cock made it twitch between Quatre’s legs and he looked forward to plunging it into another warm orifice. Looking down at his pet, he smiled. Trowa looked flushed and his lips were glistening and swollen. Groaning in delight, Quatre leaned in and kissed him again. He let go of Trowa’s hair with one hand and used it to pry his mouth open. Quatre pressed his tongue inside the warm cavern of Trowa’s mouth, tasting himself in the process.

“Mmm…” he purred as he pulled away, “So far so good. Stand up and lose the shorts,” Quatre instructed, then get on the bed.

Trowa moved to comply, but Quatre could tell how awkward it was for the young man to follow directions. The tall, muscled man threw his boxer briefs off and climbed onto the bed, long limbs making him look like a predatory cat, one with dangerous green eyes, and Quatre loved it.

“You’re breathtaking,” Quatre purred.

“Then let me rock your world,” Trowa purred, stroking his sizeable length.

Quatre licked his lips. Oh yes, he wanted that. But… maybe not tonight. If this young man was _up_ for it, perhaps next time. Tonight, Quatre was bound and determined to savor his pet for the evening.

Quatre crawled up onto the bed and lifted a leg over Trowa’s hips to straddle him. He hissed when their erections bumped against each other, and was pleased when Trowa had the same reaction. Quatre leaned in and kissed him again, stroking both himself and Trowa with one hand gently as he rocked his hips a bit, giving them both some much-needed friction.

Beneath him, Trowa practically melted, his strong hands finding purchase on Quatre’s ass, and his hips flexing, bucking Quatre, making it quite obvious what he was going for.

Not today.

Quatre grabbed the tie that he’d left on the bed and took Trowa’s hands, still kissing him senseless. Without even looking up, Quatre brought Trowa’s hands up above his head and deftly bound them together using his necktie, before pulling away and surveying his work.

“What the fuck?” the young man beneath him gasped, trying to get his hands loose.

Quick as lighting, Quatre got off him, found his belt, then threaded the belt through Trowa’s arms, between his hands, and buckled it. He threw the looped belt over one of the decorative ends of the headboard, the loop catching Trowa’s bound hands. After having done so, Trowa was more or less laying diagonally across the bed.

“This isn’t funny,” Trowa protested, “What’s the big idea?” he panted, squirming a bit.

Quatre climbed back onto the bed and straddled him again, caressing his cheek, “Settle down, sexy. I’m going to fuck you, but I have a pretty good idea that _me_ fucking _you_ is not what you had in mind when you agreed to this.

The look in Trowa’s eyes told Quatre that he’d hit the nail right on the head.

He leaned in and kissed Trowa gently, “So here is what I’m going to do… I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to make you fucking LOVE it… but I know that it’s hard for a man like you to submit to a man that looks like me,” he purred, leaning down, kissing Trowa’s chest, sucking on his skin here and there, using his mouth, lips, and tongue to help Trowa relax and become aroused again. He hadn’t missed how Trowa’s thick cock had started to grow flaccid.

“How is this going to help me?” Trowa groaned, and Quatre didn’t have to look up to know he was pouting.

“Because…” Quatre purred, “You don’t have control. I do. You want to be fucked, but you don’t want to _let_ someone defile you. That’s why I’m not giving you the choice. I am going to fuck you tonight and I’m going to get off on it no matter what. Now… you can fight me… or you can accept that you need the money and you don’t have a choice, and enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Quatre leaned in and kissed Trowa’s chest again, sucking on his skin, knowing the young man was weighing his options. Meanwhile, Quatre entertained himself, peppering Trowa’s smooth, tanned skin with dark rose markings. When he took a dusky nipple into his mouth, he felt Trowa’s head move. He was nodding.

Sitting up a little, Quatre leaned in and noticed that moisture was collecting at the corner of Trowa’s eye. Feeling a shiver of delight, Quatre gently kissed it away. “Don’t be afraid, sexy…”

“I ain’t scared,” Trowa snapped.

“Ah…” Quatre smirked. “Do you really want me to stop?” he whispered.

“I need the money,” the young man said, his face taking on a red hue. He was humiliated, but so far, this exchange had been fucking hot and he was being paid a hell of a lot of money to get this guy laid.

Quatre smirked, “Tell yourself whatever you’d like to get through this,” he purred, leaning in and kissing him deeply one more time, pleased when Trowa reciprocated, “but, it’ll be better if you allow yourself to enjoy it.”

Quatre didn’t give Trowa a chance to respond as he crawled down that long body, kissing every inch of skin at his disposal. On the way, he paused to retrieve the lube and condoms from the nightstand and kept them nearby while he continued to torture his soon-to-be lover with his lips. He ran his mouth over those wonderfully hard plains of Trowa’s abdomen while his hands busied themselves with the lubricant, attempting to warm it up a little. He uncapped the bottle and dribbled some onto his fingers, and sitting back, he parted Trowa’s legs and knelt between them. He took a moment to appreciate the view of the pet on his bed – all flushed, his tan skin now glistening, with a dozen little pink spots on his torso. Most of those would fade by the next day, but for the time being, he adored seeing Trowa decorated so.

He ran his hands over Trowa’s lower stomach, pressing his trembling thighs even wider, then tucked a hand under Trowa’s knee and hitched it up, over Quatre’s shoulder. The man whimpered when Quatre gently teased his backside, fingers delicately probing his cleft to find the ring of muscle that he would soon pillage. Trowa whimpered again, and the sound made Quatre’s already hard organ throb in desire. There was something undeniably heady about being able to reduce a man nearly twice his weight into a puddle of sensation… and he had no intention of stopping.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the soft flesh of Trowa’s inner thigh, running his tongue over the smooth, lightly salty skin, sucking on it at the same moment as he pressed a finger inside Trowa’s hard body. Trowa yelped, rolling his head back, trying to push him out.

“Relax, sexy,” Quatre purred, his lips travelling down Trowa’s leg to the juncture where his thigh met his groin to nuzzle his balls. “You wanted to this to _me_ , remember? You can handle it.”

Trowa made a little sound of distress, but nodded and Quatre added a second finger, delighting in torturing his younger lover.

He knew that the young man probably didn’t _receive_ all that much, so he took extra care to prep him, but soon, Quatre couldn’t contain himself any more. With his younger pet quivering beneath him, Quatre took his throbbing cock in hand and quickly sheathed himself, sparing a moment to do the same for Trowa, who was already leaking all over himself. He used a hand to hold one of Trowa’s thighs against Trowa’s belly and used the other to guide himself in.

Even though Quatre had taken pains to prep his lover, it still took some effort to push through that tight ring of muscle to claim the orifice. Quatre stilled for a moment, he was much too tight, and waited. “Relax,” Quatre whispered, gently petting Trowa’s thigh, which was still pinned to the man’s stomach.

Quatre pushed in the rest of the way, hissing a little as he seated himself all the way in.

That’s when he heard the sob.

Not pulling out, but relaxing his hold on Trowa’s thigh, Quatre shifted as best as he could to look at Trowa’s face. The man had turned away and had a tear rolling down his cheek… and he was beautiful. Utterly breathtaking.

Quatre leaned in further, pushing in deeper, and licked that tear, making Trowa gasp. Startled green eyes looked up at him. The muscles in the man’s biceps strained, and all he said was, “What are you waiting for? Just do it.”

“Did I hurt you, handsome?” Quatre whispered, but he could see it in the way Trowa looked away and his neck and ears reddened that he was embarrassed, not hurt.

“Fuck you,” Trowa said in a shuddering whisper.

Quatre laughed, “Perhaps later… for now,” he punctuated the statement with a roll of his hips, “Right now, I’m fucking _you_.”

Trowa gasped as Quatre brushed against that spot inside him, and that was all Quatre needed. He’d been exercising plenty of control so far, and without Trowa being a willing and well-informed participant of the kinds of games Quatre liked to play, he didn’t see a need to continue torturing him. There would be time enough for that later.

Quatre braced himself on elbows and knees, one of Trowa’s long, gorgeous legs draped over his shoulder and pulled out slightly only to ram back in, delighting in the startled yelp that fell from his lover’s lips. He had the young man bent nearly in half his arms straining, and a thin sheen of sweat on his brow as he did it again, pulled out slowly, then ramming in.

Trowa whimpered incoherently and Quatre smirked, “Mmm… you make the most wonderful sounds… but I haven’t heard the one I want…”

Hazy green eyes opened and Trowa looked at him with confusion written all over his face.

Quatre leaned in further, going as far as he could go and bending Trowa even futher so that he could bite on the young man’s earlobe before whispering in his ear, “Beg me.”

“P-please?” Trowa tried, not sure what he was begging for.

“Please what?” Quatre asked punctuating with a sharp thrust of his slim hips, elicting another cry.

“Please Master,” Trowa panted.

“You want to cum?” Quatre asked, and Trowa could only nod wordlessly. “Ever cum like this? Without jerking off?” he asked, again punctuating his question with a sharp thrust.

“No master!” Trowa yelped.

And that’s all it took.

Quatre growled in Trowa’s ear, and began to move his hips in a brutal rhythm. He kissed and nipped at Trowa’s neck as he pillaged the young man’s body, panting and swearing under his breath.

Trowa was tight and in the back of his mind, Quatre idly wondered when he’d last been reamed, but it was only a fleeting thought. He felt Trowa’s throbbing cock, sheathed in its condom, twitching against his belly and Quatre picked up the pace, screwing his new lover with abandon, getting a thrill every time he whimpered and cried out. He made sure to press his body tightly against him, giving that trapped erection plenty of friction.

Quatre could feel himself almost there when he suddenly felt Trowa hold his breath and let out a strangled moan, his hips twitching. He’d cum.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him, Quatre savagely thrust a few more times before freezing, his balls tightening as he filled the condom with spurt after spurt after spurt.

Mmm… delightful.

Quatre turned his head and indulged in one more possessive open mouth kiss before pulling out. He quickly disposed of their condoms and then came back with a towel for Trowa, laying it on top of his lap. Quatre then deftly undid Trowa’s bindings and watched as the man rolled away from him, his whole body taking on a blush that was rather uncommon for people with that tanned skin tone.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” Quatre asked, slightly concerned. He was being careful, but he could have hurt him accidentally.

“I’m fine,” Trowa ground out.

There was silence for a moment before Quatre finally broke it, “How long do I have you for?” he asked.

“I was supposed to entertain you all weekend…” Trowa began, but he was embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about that. You can go home any time you like. And… thank you. I know it wasn’t what you signed up for, but if you’re available next week, I wouldn’t mind having you again. Like I said… I’d pay double, but this was pretty tame compared to what I usually indulge in. If you want to play at my place, you should know that.”

Trowa nodded, “Mind if I take a shower before I go?” he asked.

Quatre graciously motioned towards the bathroom and let him have at it. An hour later, the young man was gone and Quatre was going to bide his time before asking Heero to get him that young man’s contact information. He had been a most excellent pet.

 

 

 

 


	2. Office Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'd initially slated this for 3 chapters, but now it's looking like 4. 
> 
> Warnings - same as before. 
> 
> Also, I don't condone workplace harassment, but *shrug* this makes for good fiction. I love my boys and I could never really make either one of them hurt the other. Thank you to everyone that has read this so far!
> 
> Hot off the presses (not bata'ed or proofed more than once or twice)  
> G'night everyone! Hoping to finish this weekend - let's see how that goes...

Part 2

 

**Office Surprise**

 

All of Saturday, Quatre was feeling good. It was his first day of being 30, there was little to catch up with as far as work email, and his lunch date with Iria had been relatively painless. He went for a run, hit the gym, grabbed a shower, and generally enjoyed his afternoon, with the occasional thought of the sexy man he’d taken to bed the night before.

Fuck, that boy was gorgeous.

He wanted him again. He wanted to play with him a little more. He wanted to see what supple leather would look like against his sun-kissed skin and he wanted to hear those wonderful supplicating sighs tumble from those kissable lips one more time.

He knew such thoughts were dangerous, though. He couldn’t afford to become addicted to that young man, but he was starting to think it might already be too late.

Wrestling with that thought for the rest of the day, Quatre finally caved and sent a text to Heero:

_ Do you think you could get me my present’s contact information from your S.O.? I stupidly forgot to ask. _

There, he’d done it. Nothing left to do but wait. He didn’t want to come off as desperate, which he wasn’t; he was simply intrigued.

If the young man agreed, Quatre would have to negotiate how much it would cost him (he never did ask how much Duo had paid), and what he could do to him. Last night had been tame. Sure, he’d topped when the young man clearly thought that Quatre would bottom, and yes, he’d tied him up – but the knots were FAR from secure! – but still, there was a chance that the handsome young man would balk at a repeat performance, let alone allow Quatre to do more.

Quatre knew that as a Dom, he’d have his pet’s well being in his hands, and that was a responsibility he took seriously. He had few lovers, but those that he did indulge in, he was very careful with and attentive to. He was very good at making his pets squirm, but he was also good enough to ensure that they always enjoyed play time. The only problem was that he didn’t always enjoy being the dominant partner.

Being in control everywhere else in his life, he often longed for someone else to take the reins in his love life, but that would require trust on Quatre’s part. Trust he wasn’t very eager to give. Truth be told, it was one of the main reasons why he didn’t have a lover, save for the occasional dalliance from a select group of people that were willing to let him play for a certain amount of money.

Money, he could afford. His heart was not something he’d be willing to gamble.

Putting aside his thoughts for the time being, he indulged in some reading time, taking the occasional (belated) birthday call from his sisters and extended family. They all knew by now not to bother him with such trivialities on a weekday.

He didn’t receive a reply from Heero about the young man until late Sunday evening, which was a disappointment. He’d hoped that the young man would be available but the response he got from Heero was not the one he wanted:

_ Duo says that this was a one-time-thing. Sorry. Want me to pass along your contact info in case he changes his mind? _

Quatre was bitterly disappointed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have indulged quite so much, but then again, if the young man was scared off by what did happen, then maybe he’d been getting his hopes up for nothing. Sighing, he quickly typed a message to Heero and was amused when Heero responded quickly:

_ Go ahead. See you in the morning. We have interns and you lost the coin toss. _

_ Fuck off, Winner. I’ll make sure you get stuck with an intern for a secretary for that! _

_ Idle threats. _

_ If you say so. _

Quatre laughed a little and put his phone down, settling into sleep; Heero hated intern orientation.

~*~*~*~*~

Monday morning, Quatre was up bright and early. He went through his usual routine, which involved a quick morning workout, a breakfast smoothie, and a shower before getting dressed and getting his ass to the office. He was usually one of the first people there and today was no exception.

He was there even before the secretaries, which he preferred, and quietly went up to his office to begin the arduous task of sorting out the emails that he’d received between 5:00 PM on Sunday and 7:00 AM on Monday. Freaking Asia Pacific branch, always sending him crap! As if it were his fault that they were 18 hours ahead!

Dutifully, he pounded away at his keyboard, thanking the secretary that came in with a cup of coffee for him and several folders for him to review and sign, and continued with his work. Every Monday started off that way, and he didn’t expect to be bothered again until around lunch time, which is why he was surprised when there was a knock at his door at a quarter to ten.

“Come in!” Quatre called out, finishing up the email he’d been typing and hitting the send button before bothering to look up. “I’ll be right with you,” he said, hearing the door open.

“Quatre, meet your new intern and secretary-fill-in, Trowa Barton. Trowa, this is your new boss, Quatre Winner,” Quatre heard Heero say, which made his stomach do a funny sort of flop. Had he said, Trowa?

Quatre pried his eyes from his monitor and looked towards his new visitors.

Suddenly, his mouth went dry.

Standing just beyond the two chairs that faced his desk was Heero, looking sharp in a designer suit, as always, and a very spooked looking Trowa Barton. The same Trowa that he’d shared a hotel room with.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Quatre asked, neutrally, standing.

“What do you mean?” Heero asked. “We discussed this already. You need an intern for the summer while Melinda is on maternity leave. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

“No… I haven’t forgotten,” Quatre said carefully. He knew he’d need a replacement, and Heero had threatened him with an intern already, but this was far too much. Still, he wouldn’t tip his hand if Heero wasn’t, so instead, he changed tactics.

“Is something the matter, then?” Heero asked suspiciously, looking between Quatre and the intern, who looked rather petrified. Then again, of course Quatre would terrify a college kid – even if the kid was a whole head taller. “Are you seriously going to protest having a male secretary?” Heero scoffed. “What ERA are you from?”

Quatre gave him a scathing look, and moved around his desk, “Nice. Give the kid a bad impression of me, why don’t you? Nothing’s the matter, I just forgot that we were getting interns today is all. I can take his orientation from here,” he said quickly. “I’ll turn him over to the secretaries for training after.”

“Sounds good,” Heero said, looking relieved for a moment, but then the suspicious look came back. “If it wasn’t the intern,” he added, ignoring how Trowa looked like he wanted to just melt into the floor, “What is it? And don’t say ‘nothing’, Winner. Spit it out.”

Quatre crossed his arms in front of him, defensively, not liking to be called out. Especially in front of an intern! But, given the small lapse, he at least he had a plan now. “Well… I didn’t want to bring this up in front of my new secretary, but since you insist on trying to pry, very well. Did you get your S.O. to pass along my information? I never did thank you for the birthday gift. Excessive as it was, I did have fun.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre could see Trowa blushing brightly, gripping onto the legal pad or planner or whatever book-like-thing he was holding with a death grip.

“I told you,” Heero sighed, looking annoyed, “it was a one-time thing, per Duo, but yes, I did ask him to pass along the information.”

“Couldn’t you do it?” Quatre asked curiously, his posture slowly relaxing.

“Duo won’t give me any details. He said it was a classmate of his that agreed to help him out and that’s that. Get over it, Winner, and get your ass to work,” Heero said, looking at his watch and making an exit. He didn’t give Trowa a second look.

Quatre waited a few moments, until he was sure Heero was out of earshot, and turned to look at the very pale Trowa Barton.

“Does he know you?” Quatre asked quietly, dangerously. Quatre did not like being played, and he was not overly fond of surprises. Friday’s was a rare exception, but even then, he didn’t like having his hand forced the way it had been. “Does he know it was you on Friday?”

Trowa shook his head, looking a bit like a frightened animal. “N-no sir,” he managed. “I’ve never met Mr. Yuy in my life, though I do attend a class with a Duo.”

Quatre, thought on that for a moment, and closed the door. He could feel the young man gulp behind him. The air was tense; he had to think fast.

Turning to face the young man in his office, he covered the space between them. He didn’t blame Trowa too much for backing up as he approached. He only came to a stop when the backs of his long legs hit the edge of Quatre’s desk. He had nowhere to go.

As he leaned in, Trowa tried to back up further, but only ended up sitting on Quatre’s desk, giving Quatre the perfect opportunity to pin him by putting a hand on either side of Trowa’s thighs.

“Did you list your other job on the internship application?” Quatre asked coldly. He felt trapped by the revelation that his Friday dalliance was also his intern. It had to be a set up, and Quatre did not take well to being toyed with. “Did it say, ‘will suck cock for a job’? Or did it just list ‘bed-warmer’ as one of your skills?”

Trowa flushed, his eyes narrowing in anger as he pushed Quatre away from him, and hopping off the desk.

“Fuck you! I worked my ass off and earned this internship,” Trowa said, his hands balling at his sides, journal forgotten on Quatre’s desk. “I got in by beating people out fair and square! So yeah, I did that job on Friday, and no, I won’t do it again. It was a one-time thing, just like I told Duo.”

“I could fire you,” Quatre hissed, still not convinced that this wasn’t a set up. “What you did for money is frowned upon. You would never have gotten this job if the interviewer had known what you do on your off time…”

That seemed to knock the wind out of the tall man, his eyes wide in panic, “Y-you can’t do that!”

“I can, and I should. Give me a reason to keep you on,” Quatre demanded. He was waiting for the young man to try and hold something over his head. He was expecting to be blackmailed somehow, or threatened. He didn’t, however, expect what Trowa said next.

With shoulders slumped, Trowa gave Quatre a pleading look, “I’m sorry for my outburst, Mr. Winner. Please, don’t take this away from me. I worked hard for this internship and unlike most, it’s paid. I need this. I’m so close to graduating and I need this.”

Quatre crossed his arms and approached him again, “I want to believe you…”

“I-I need this,” Trowa repeated. “I need this internship to finish my degree and I need the money to pay for it.”

“And Friday?” Quatre asked.

“I needed the money to get my car running again. I spent the weekend getting it fixed,” he admitted, “I wouldn’t have been able to show up for work if I hadn’t.”

Quatre approached the young man, eyeing him carefully. He was good at spotting deception and he could sense none in Trowa. He walked around Trowa, noting how still he stood, how tense he was, and without much thought, he reached out and put a hand on the small of Trowa’s back.

He wasn’t surprised when Trowa jumped a little.

“I enjoyed my birthday very much because of you,” Quatre said softly, coming around to face Trowa, keeping a hand firmly on the small of his back. “I was very disappointed when I found out you wouldn’t meet me again.”

Trowa began to tremble a little under Quatre’s fingertips, but didn’t say anything. Instead, those soulful green eyes looked down at Quatre with such a vulnerability that made Quatre’s heart melt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, reaching up to caress Trowa’s cheek. “I know you can’t want this, but, if I don’t fire you now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” There it was. The truth. And, he conceded, that admission was the most damning of all. He prided himself on his control. He could control anything he set his mind to – people, negotiations, relationships, even his own body, heart, and mind – and now, this young man was making him lose it. Quatre hated not being in control and, where normally he would have done everything possible to remove the causation, in this case, he wanted to keep Trowa closer. It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t afford to lose sight of this man again.

“I need the money,” was all Trowa said, releasing a little sigh and tilting his head to press against the hand that Quatre had resting on his cheek.

Quatre used that hand to guide Trowa’s face down to him and gave him a gentle, lingering kiss. Unlike the kisses that they’d shared before, this one was sweet, patient, and had none of the desperation that had previously dominated.

And to Quatre’s delight, it was reciprocated, albeit tentatively.

Quatre broke the kiss and looked up at Trowa, “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you… these indiscretions of mine must be kept secret. In return, you get to keep this internship and I will fill out all the forms for your coursework personally, with glowing reviews, provided…”

“Provided I let you molest me,” Trowa finished candidly.

“Yes,” Quatre agreed, refusing to be ruffled, “Provided you keep quiet about molesting you.”

“I could overpower you, you know,” Trowa tried, defiantly.

“I know,” Quatre smirked, “You could, but you won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Quatre wrapped both of his arms around Trowa’s slender waist and pulled him tight against him, his hand gently moving to caress the swell of his taut, rounded ass, making the younger man shudder, “Because, despite your pride, you love being pursued. You’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to have someone want you like this.”

Trowa shivered and pressed his hands against Quatre’s shoulders. “You’re supposed to be showing me around, sir. And after, I’m to go train with the secretaries.”

Quatre smirked. He could see past the reluctance, but he nodded, “Very well. Grab your journal or whatever that was, and follow me.”

Monday was shaping up better than he’d expected!

Though Quatre had wanted to see Trowa again that day, and was disappointed that he didn’t, he hadn’t expected to see Trowa again until at least the next day. He was a very good looking man and most of the secretary pool was female. That, and the fact that he had to complete some training pretty much ensured that Quatre wouldn’t see him.

Not that it mattered; Quatre had the rest of the summer to enjoy the eye candy.

Tuesday began much like Monday, but instead of some nameless girl delivering his coffee in Melinda’s place, Trowa came in right at 8:05 with black coffee and a bagel with a generous serving of cream cheese slathered between the two halves. It was his favorite breakfast treat!

“I suppose you’ve been briefed on how to butter up your boss,” Quatre smiled, moving some papers out of the way as Trowa closed the door behind himself.

“I have been, yes,” Trowa said quietly. He came up to Quatre’s desk and set down the coffee and bagel before coming over to Quatre’s side of the desk, taking a seat on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking… about yesterday,” he began.

“And?” Quatre prompted, going for the bagel, nibbling on it, to keep from getting himself dirty.

“And I want you to give my professor a good report. I’m proud, but I’m not that proud… a-and… I’m damned lucky that if I was going to be in this position, that you’re the one I’m to answer to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Quatre asked, breaking off a piece of the bagel, only to have Trowa steal it and put it in Quatre’s mouth for him.

“You’re a handsome man, and you haven’t hurt me. You’ve embarrassed me, but you haven’t hurt me, when you could have.”

Quatre chewed and swallowed and let out a shuddering breath, “You do realize I’m going to make you uncomfortable,” he whispered, setting aside his treat. He looked up at Trowa and ran a hand over his thigh. His fingers played with the fabric, gently moving to the more sensitive area between his thighs and began moving up towards his groin.

It was then Trowa’s turn to be short of breath. He held onto the edge of the desk with a white-knuckled grip, and bucked his hips a little.

Quatre looked up at Trowa with clouded eyes and moved his rolling chair so that he sat between those long legs. He didn’t ask permission when he moved those hands to the bulge in Trowa’s pants, teasing and caressing him through the smooth fabric of his charcoal slacks. He leaned in and nuzzled him, breathing in his scent and mouthing the shaft he felt hardening beneath his questing fingers. He moved his hands up further and undid the sleek, inexpensive belt he wore before unfastening the slacks – first the hook then the button – then lowered the zipper slowly.

Quatre looked up again, locking eyes with Trowa, who suddenly seemed to realize how far Quatre had gotten. Immediately, he jerked, trying to close his legs and his pants but Quatre caught his wrists. “Put your hands back on the desk,” he instructed.

Trowa was trembling, his head swiveling to try and look over his shoulder. “The door isn’t locked! What if someone comes in?” he whispered, worriedly.

“No one is coming in,” Quatre purred, guiding his hands to where they had been. “Not unless you give them reason to.”

Without really waiting for Trowa to nod, Quatre tugged on Trowa’s open pants, making Trowa slide off the desk for a moment, catching himself on one foot. Taking that opening, Quatre grabbed the elastic of Trowa’s dark grey boxer briefs and pulled them down, with the slacks, to Trowa’s knees. He put his hands on Trowa’s hips and pushed him back to the seated position on his desk, taking a moment to appreciate how positively wicked he looked, draped, half nude, in his office.

Moaning a little in appreciation, Quatre pushed his rolling chair forward and in one motion, he took Trowa’s erection in hand and brought it to his mouth, licking at the head.

Trowa made a startled yelp, then slapped a hand over his mouth.

Quatre laughed a little, “That’s right, keep it down. I’m going to enjoy you before I have my coffee and I don’t want anyone to know about it,” he purred.

Once more, he didn’t wait for Trowa before sliding his lips over the hot, firm flesh, taking him in his mouth and enjoying him slowly.

In the end, their little exchange didn’t take very long. Trowa was well endowed and quite sensitive, two things that Quatre appreciated. Still, he’d come too soon, and after a quick clean up in Quatre’s private lavatory, Trowa scurried out of his office to go do … whatever secretaries did.

And thus, began Quatre’s affair with his intern.

It was perfect.

Quatre would touch Trowa, bait him, steal kisses. He would caress him, get him to touch too, and even coaxed Trowa into getting on his knees one evening, to give Quatre oral satisfaction, after a particularly stressful day. The man was hauntingly gorgeous and Quatre only wished that he could have him in his bed again… but that would be asking too much.

Bad enough that Quatre had compelled the poor young man into giving and receiving fellatio; he couldn’t very well coerce him into having sex – bondage sex at that! It was a thought that he struggled to wrestle with, but eventually, he managed to regain control himself.

Until Trowa came into his office after hours one night, looking wretched and distressed.

“Trowa?” Quatre asked, concerned. He’d been in the process of shutting down and packing up his laptop that Friday night when Trowa shuffled into his office wearing jeans and a green tee shirt that showed off his impressive biceps and broad chest. “What’s wrong? You should have gone home hours ago, why are you still here?”

Trowa looked very shifty. He had a brown backpack slung over his shoulder and couldn’t meet his gaze.

“The night that we met,” Trowa began, hugging himself with one arm while holding the strap of the backpack over his shoulder with the other, looking very vulnerable, “You made me an offer… is that still something I can claim?” he asked. He looked ashamed. Like he would have done anything else but ask that if the option had been available to him.

“Double your price for sex at my place,” Quatre said, blood rushing to his nether regions, “Yes. That is still available. But… it’ll be different,” he warned.

“Different how?” Trowa asked suspiciously.

“For double the money, you should know that I am particular to certain activities in bed,” he said, coming around to the front of his desk and leaning back against it. “I need you to spell out the limitations before we go any further.”

“I-I… don’t know what you mean…” Trowa said, sounding confused.

“What I did to you at the hotel was just a taste. I want to tie you up, I want to tease you, to fuck you, to make you whimper in helplessness, in pleasure. I want to claim you and make you my pet. Is that something you can handle?”

“D-don’t hit me,” Trowa said quickly. “Don’t hit me or pinch me or break my skin in any way,” he added, looking pale.

“Oh, I won’t harm you,” Quatre said kindly. “I like domination, but I don’t care much for pain. I might spank you though, or give you a light slap… but I don’t get off on pain.”

Trowa breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Good!” Quatre smiled, standing and grabbing his laptop bag, “Now all that’s left is for you to give me a price.”

“You don’t know?” Trowa asked incredulously, following Quatre as he left the office, using longer legs to keep up, “Then why did you offer double?”

“Because whatever they paid you, you’re worth it. Now name your price.”

Before too long, Quatre had driven both he and Trowa to his home in the outskirts of town. It wasn’t terribly far from the office, since it too was near the edge of the city limits, but it was far enough away from the city that the property lots were large and the homes had plenty of square footage.

Quatre did his best to set the young man at ease as they entered his home. They’d grabbed some take out and had dinner, but neither ate very much. Trowa was too nervous and Quatre too excited.

Soon, they’d eaten all they’d eat and Quatre put the leftovers in the fridge, assuring Trowa that he was welcome to go eat some more if he got hungry later. He then sent Trowa to the shower in the basement of his home, giving him very particular instructions on how to wash, and what to put on when he was done.

Meanwhile, Quatre went into his playroom, which was just down the hall from the bathroom that Trowa occupied. One door of it led to the hall, the other to his playroom, but Quatre always made sure to lock it from the playroom side. He didn’t want Trowa (or anyone else) walking in there by accident. 

Quatre quickly picked out what he wanted; making sure the appropriate toys out and at the ready when Trowa came out of his shower. Once that task was done, he hurried upstairs to his own room, and quickly showered as well, taking the time to wash out every inch of himself. He was nothing if not facetious and he knew that in the games he liked to play, being clean was being safe.

When he came downstairs again, wearing a pair of black slacks that were tighter than his usual cut and a belt, and nothing more, he smiled when he saw Trowa. He found the young man standing awkwardly in a terrycloth robe at the foot of the stairs, not knowing what to do.

“No need to be so afraid, handsome,” Quatre purred, “Just let go and let me take care of you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Trowa took a breath, but nodded hesitantly, “Yes sir,” he whispered, then corrected himself, “I-I  mean, Master. Yes, Master.”

Quatre smiled and kissed the corner of Trowa’s mouth as he removed the Robe Trowa wore, tossing it on a hook, leaving him only in a pair of black briefs, “Come,” he purred, taking Trowa’s hand. “I’ve wanted to show you my play room since the moment I met you. 


	3. Playroom Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa learns what its like to be in Quatre's playroom. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction and though there is dub-con here, I don't condone or endorse abusive relationships. 
> 
> Written for a Dark!Quatre prompt, though if you've gotten this far, you should know that. >^.~<
> 
> Warnings: Same as other chapters - language, kink, sub!Trowa, nothing too hard core.  
> Oh yeah! SMUTT. This whole chapter is smutt. NSFW.

**Playroom Surprise**

 

Quatre led an unresisting Trowa by the hand through a doorway and into a dimly lit room. There was a large bed towards the back of the room, a pair of doors off to the side, a plush looking chair, a chest of drawers, and some odd pieces of furniture that Trowa couldn’t identify.

From the beams in the ceiling, there were many rings that looked like attachment points, and hanging along one of the walls were many chains.

Quatre felt Trowa begin to resist when he’d gotten him halfway through the room, making him stop and look back at him. “You’re frightened.”

Trowa, whose eyes were wide as saucers nodded and unconsciously took a step back, only to be halted by the strong grip on his wrist.

“No, pet. You cannot leave. Kneel,” Quatre commanded.

Trowa hesitated, but got on his knees, thankful for the lush carpet that they were standing on. Quatre petted his hair for a moment and walked away. When he came back, he had a pair of leather cuffs, “Give me your wrist,” he said. There was no room to argue. Before long, Quatre had Trowa’s wrists encased in leather. The inside was soft and supple and the heavy steel buckles made Trowa think of the punk rock kids he’d seen in school, but he didn’t say anything. On each cuff were a pair of D rings, and judging by all the attachment points in the room, he had a feeling that they’d be used.

Quatre walked away and came back again with a slightly bigger pair of cuffs, but this time, he went behind Trowa and fastened one onto each ankle before walking away again. When Quatre came back a third time, he had a thick, padded, collar in his hands. It made Trowa shudder and balk, but Quatre grabbed him by the hair, forced his head back, and ravaged Trowa’s mouth.

“Don’t,” he hissed. “You are my whore tonight,” he whispered, quickly fastening the collar around Trowa’s long neck and hooking a finger into the D ring at the front, “You are my beautiful, sensuous, fuckable whore, and all I need from you is your trust and your obedience.”

Trowa was too nervous to say anything. He didn’t like all the different sorts of apparatus around him and it was making him very, very uneasy. What was Mr. Winner going to do to him? This kind of room looked like something out of a dark novel, and not knowing what sorts of things he’d agreed to fucking scared him. He licked his lips and swallowed, managing a little nod.

Quatre watched the play of emotion on that handsome face, those lips of his swollen from being kissed. He wanted them again… but later. He let go of his hair and walked away for a moment. He went to a corner of the room where Trowa could not see what he was doing and then came back with what looked like two aluminum bars in his hand. Trowa looked up at him fearfully, but Quatre ignored him. Instead, he went behind Trowa and attached the center off the bar to the on the collar behind Trowa’s neck, then he attached each of his wrists, via D rings to each end of the bar. He walked around Trowa to survey his work, then walked away again for a length of chain shaped like a “Y”. He was just tall enough to secure the one long end to the attachment point above Trowa’s head, and then made Trowa stand so that he could attach the other two ends to the bar half way between his neck and his wrist. Trowa was rather grateful that it was slack.

“Don’t move,” Quatre told him as he moved behind Trowa, the sounds of chains clinking making Trowa’s skin crawl. He didn’t know what Quatre would do, but knowing he was behind him, the scraping of metal against metal, was making him really fucking scared. And even though he knew Mr. Winner said he wouldn’t hurt him, he couldn’t help the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

In fact, Trowa was so distraught that when Quatre wrapped his arms around him, cinching a wide belt against his waist, he literally jumped.

“Take five steps back,” Quatre said, watching Trowa do what he was told. He attached a chain to the back of the belt Trowa now wore, then deftly attached a second to the front of Trowa’s collar, and yanked a little to make him bend at the waist so that he could secure that last chain to an attachment point under the plush carpet Trowa had been kneeling on just moments before.

Quatre walked around him, surveying his work, and though he wasn’t finished with the setup, he couldn’t help but notice the way Trowa’s eyes kept cutting over to the chains and flogs and paddles on the wall, or how he kept throwing glances at the chest of drawers to his left. It was making him very tense and Quatre simply couldn’t have that!

 

He walked away from Trowa for a moment and then came back with a padded black blindfold. He hadn’t intended on using it, but perhaps it would help his new pet. When he saw the look of panic in Trowa’s bright green eyes, he knelt before him and leaned in to caress his cheek, “Don’t be frightened, handsome. I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you, but I can’t have you getting nervous about toys that are not meant for you. Shh, lovely… trust me.”

Trowa swallowed thickly and nodded - just barely.

Quatre smiled winningly at him and with quick fingers, he secured the blindfold onto Trowa’s head and checked to ensure that no light was coming in. Perfect.

Quatre watched him with lustful eyes, enjoying how good Trowa’s ass looked as he was bent over, the belt holding his hips up and the chain securing his collar to the floor keeping his head down. He was wearing the briefs Quatre had set out for him - this was good because they’d soon be destroyed, and it would be a shame to ruin Trowa’s clothes.

“Spread your legs,” Quatre ordered, and Trowa obeyed, but it wasn’t enough. Quatre kicked the feet wider and used the second aluminum bar to keep them that way by securing a cuffed ankle to each end.

“You look lovely,” Quatre purred, running a hand up Trowa’s legs, along his outer thighs, over his ass and up his back. Trowa shivered a little, his hands balling into fists. “Can you get out of that?” Quatre asked, walking around him, admiring Trowa’s olive skin color and the way the muscles flexed and relaxed as Trowa tried to pull his hands and feet free.

His legs could move quite a bit and Quatre couldn’t have that. He quickly secured the bar holding Trowa’s feet apart to a pair of attachment points hidden under the carpet, which Quatre kicked away unceremoniously. It wouldn’t be needed any more.

Now, Trowa couldn’t lift his legs, and couldn’t accidentally kick Quatre.

“Much better,” he said to himself. He ran his hands over Trowa’s legs and groaned slightly as he squeezed the round globes of Trowa’s ass. This man obviously worked out - he had fantastic legs and an amazing ass, and Quatre couldn’t help giving it a smack through the black briefs.

Trowa yelped and squirmed, and it was turning Quatre on - so he did it again. And once more, on the other cheek.

“Stop it!” Trowa cried out, making Quatre freeze.

“What did you say?” Quatre asked icily.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me…”

“And this is hurting you?” Quatre asked coolly. If so, this was not going to be as much fun as he’d hoped. A light spanking was hardly something to get worked up about! Especially when the young man had consented to it.

“W-well, n-no…” Trowa said meekly. He was panting and Quatre walked around him to look at his face. He could see how Trowa’s thumbs were tugging at his fingers, causing one knuckle to crack in anxiety. He wasn’t hurt, but he was nervous, and, perhaps this was all too new to him. He needed better training.

“I didn’t think so,” Quatre said, unfastening his pants, stroking himself a little. “I only want you to use that beautiful mouth for one of three things - kissing, sucking, and screaming,” he said softly, caressing Trowa’s face. “Not talking, and certainly not complaining. Negotiation time is over,” he purred, tapping Trowa’s cheek with the head of his hardening erection. “Open that mouth for me,” he instructed.

Trowa let out a shuddering sigh, but parted let his jaw go slack, allowing Quatre to guide his penis into the warm cavern of his mouth.

“Mmm… that’s a good pet,” Quatre cooed, petting Trowa’s hair as he rocked his hips a little. “Use that tongue, handsome, just like you know I like it.”

Trowa shivered again but at least he knew what giving head was like. He’d done in in Quatre’s office about a dozen times already. He knew the feel of Quatre’s cock in his mouth and he knew how far he could go before he choked on it. He also knew that Quatre liked him to choke once or twice before letting Trowa do it his way.

Today was no exception, but today he didn’t have his fist between his mouth and Quatre’s groin to keep the shorter man from shoving in too far.

Quatre threaded his fingers through Trowa’s hair and pushed in deep, giving a little chuckle at Trowa’s startled gagging and pulled out. Trowa coughed a little and panted, unable to do anything about it. It gave Quatre a little thrill at the control he held over the handsome man in leather and chains, practically at his feet. Quatre leaned down and pulled Trowa’s head back again. Knowing the gasping man was expecting a dick in his mouth again, Quatre instead kissed him savagely, tasting himself as his tongue probing, exploring, and claiming.

When Quatre let him go, Trowa was gasping and looked completely off balance. _Good._

The next thing Trowa knew, his mouth was being pried open again and a soft rubber ball was shoved in. He tried to dislodge it, but Quatre was too fast and he’d already secured the ball gag straps, buckling it a little tightly behind his head.

“No more complaining,” Quatre purred in his ear. He took a moment to suck in Trowa’s earlobe, nibbling on it gently. “And I know what you’re thinking… what if I really hurt you next time and you want me to stop?”

Trowa nodded, and by his breathing, he could tell that Trowa was panicked. Already, he could see moisture seeping from beneath the soft blindfold and Quatre couldn’t help leaning in and licking it away. “Crying won’t make me stop, handsome,” he said gently.  

Quatre dug into his pocket and pulled out something he hadn’t wanted to resort to, but given the circumstances, he had little choice. It was for Trowa’s safety.

Trowa went still, feeling Quatre fumbling for something. He didn’t like the idea that Quatre seemed to be turned on by his tears, but what could he do? Suddenly, something cool was pressed into his hand. Something round – and hollow.

“It’s a bell,” Quatre explained. “If I really am hurting you, and if you do really need me to stop, drop it. Just remember… you begged me to do this to you, my little whore.”

Trowa whimpered a little but clutched the bell tightly and nodded. He really hated to admit it, but he was getting a bit turned on at being so at Quatre’s mercy. Not that he would have willingly volunteered for this had he not needed the money, but if this game was an inevitable part of what Quatre wanted, then he shouldn’t hold himself back from enjoying it. So help him, the humiliation of being reduced to tears was starting to turn him on – what the _fuck_ had Quatre done to him?!

Quatre tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up again for the time being. There would be time enough for his own pleasure later and he rather enjoyed the feeling of being trapped inside his slacks. His hands travelled down Trowa’s back, scratching him a little before settling on Trowa’s brief-clad backside. He got on his knees and pressed his face against the fabric, smirking when Trowa jumped as his chin hit the back of his balls.

Trowa smelled of soap and clean cotton briefs and a scent that was all his own, and it was downright intoxicating. He reached between Trowa’s legs and began to rub Trowa’s groin, finding a nearly-flaccid cock tucked into the fabric. That would change soon enough.

Digging into his other pocket, Quatre pulled out a rubber cock ring that had a quick-release switch on it. He checked it, to ensure it would work properly then swiftly and firmly yanked Trowa’s briefs down his legs, letting them stretch tightly right above Trowa’s knees. He leaned in and licked the back of Trowa’s balls, making the man cry out behind his ball gag and swiftly slid the cock ring in place. He held it there as he licked and suckled on Trowa’s sac, making him squirm and whimper and sway.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Quatre purred, slipping between Trowa’s legs so that his head was below Trowa’s waist, the bar between Trowa’s feet pressing against his butt and his feet braced on the floor beyond. He leaned in and suckled Trowa’s hardening shaft, moaning around it, making slurping sounds as he tormented his younger lover.

Trowa, for his part, was delirious. He couldn’t see or speak or move, but that wet, hot mouth on his dick was driving his carnal desires in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. He wanted more of Quatre’s hot mouth, he wanted to fuck it like Quatre had done with him, wanted to spill himself down Quatre’s throat and was nearly sobbing again when Quatre decided to pull away, letting cold air hit his throbbing need.

“That’s much better,” Quatre purred, running a finger up Trowa’s shaft, admiring his work.

“Do you remember two weeks ago… when I ordered you to get tested?” Quatre asked, scooting out from under Trowa to kneel behind him again, trying to look around him to see Trowa nod. “Did you do it?”

A whimper. A nod.

“And are you clean?” Quatre asked.

Trowa thrust his hips desperately but nodded.

In truth, that had been one of the more humiliating things Quatre had subjected Trowa to. The first time Quatre made him swallow down his semen, he’d leaned in and kissed him and ordered Trowa to go get an STD screening. He then gave him very specific orders to report any anomalies, but he hadn’t asked about it again. He’d had a clean bill of health, and since his internship began, he’d not been with anyone else.

Even if there HAD been anyone else he’d been attracted to, this arrangement with his boss, where he was servicing him sexually, would make him a pretty scummy boyfriend to anyone else. He didn’t want to be that guy. And, if he was completely honest with himself, he would admit that his boss had to be some fallen angel; a devil. He was beautiful and charming and made Trowa’s hormones do all sorts of naughty things, but the man was controlling, hard as nails, and even a little sadistic.

Quatre smiled darkly when Trowa confirmed what he’d wanted to know and leaned in to lick and bite at Trowa’s smooth backside. He was determined to leave marks on his untouched skin - not many, and only one that would not fade by morning – if he was lucky, it would be marking his skin for weeks. A reminder of tonight. He was thrilled when Trowa tried to pull away, giving him the excuse to grab him by the belt and pull him back towards him as he spread Trowa’s cheeks and began to lick the orifice that would be his next target.

Trow cried out again, gagged as he was, shaking his head, his body trembling as Quatre violated him with his tongue. He growled and ripped the already strained fabric of the briefs around Trowa’s legs. They had been biting into the man’s skin and were generally in the way. The sound of ripping fabric made Quatre’s cock throb in the confines of his slacks, fueling the burning in his blood. He probed him and laved at his entrance, rimming the tight knot of tissue while kneading globes of Trowa’s muscular, rounded ass. He licked down to Trowa’s perineum, sucking on the soft flesh, and making Trowa cry out. His attack lasted only as long as Quatre could contain himself. He wanted to fuck that orifice with every fiber of his being, but he had to contain himself. He had to stick to his program. He couldn’t let Trowa’s unfailing allure derail him! He lapped at the back of Trowa’s balls, then back up his cleft to tease his ring one more until finally, mercifully, pulled away, giving Trowa a little reprieve.

By then, Trowa was a bundle of nerves. His cock was painfully hard and he didn’t think he could take much more stimulation. He had NEVER in his LIFE had someone who wanted to eat him out like that, and now Quatre’s very specific instructions about how to wash himself made a hell of a lot more sense.

While Trowa was busy catching his breath, Quatre went to the bed and prepared the anchor points so that all he’d have to do was snap Trowa into place. He had a length of chain leading from each of the four corners on red cotton sheets. On the bedside, Quatre had a bottle of lubricant ready and, a toy he’d bought specifically for Trowa.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get to use it, but the same day that Trowa showed up to work in his office, Quatre placed the order… and today, Trowa would get to enjoy it.

Going back to where Trowa hung, Quatre pulled out his cell phone and snapped a few quick photos. The sound made Trowa jump and his skin redden but Quatre paid him no mind.

“Are you ready for what comes next?” Quatre asked, but didn’t wait for much of a response. Trowa was squirming and groaning, the occasional sob escaping his lips.

“Don’t worry… you’ll like it,” Quatre promised as he went behind Trowa, lube in hand and toy in his pocket. He didn’t take too much time prepping his lover - unlike last time, it wasn’t Quatre that he’d be accommodating. Quatre was careful, but efficient, and when he slipped the hard plastic plug into Trowa’s entrance, he was rewarded by a yelp and another sob.

Quatre then released Trowa’s feet from the aluminum bar then went around the front of him to release the chain that kept him tethered down. He helped Trowa stand and unfastened the belt  that had held his backside up, then he attached a lead to Trowa’s collar before releasing him from the second aluminum bar, leaving the thing dangling in the air.

“I need you to walk to the bed,” Quatre ordered. “Take ten steps,” he directed, staying out of reach but pulling Trowa in the direction he wanted him. Once he had him beside the bed, he ordered him to turn around and sit.

Trowa walked awkwardly, the plug inside him making its presence known with every step. When he was ordered to sit hesitated, but complied, wincing when the plug pushed in uncomfortably. He wanted to touch himself, but Quatre smacked his hands away and then pulled them up, making Trowa fall backward onto the bed.

Quatre dragged Trowa’s long body from the foot of the bed, where he’d had him sit, to the head, clipping the chains in place to Trowa’s wrist restraints.

He then crawled off the bed and secured Trowa’s ankles, leaving the man spread eagle, but with enough slack for him to bend his knees with feet braced.

Quatre took a moment to just enjoy the view, and out came his cell phone once more. He didn’t know if he’d ever get this opportunity again, and if he didn’t, he didn’t want to squander it. Snapping a few photos, he set his phone down and then undressed. He was hard, and throbbing and he knew it wouldn’t take too long to get him off.

Knowing he’d be cumming on his sexy intern was making it even more difficult to control himself.

He let Trowa squirm as he prepped himself - it had been a while since he’d had a lover, but he was no stranger at this. He let Trowa hear him moan, and experienced a thrill of delight when the man seemed to respond to the sound.

Once he was ready, he touched Trowa’s chest and kissed the side of his mouth, despite the gag.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a while,” Quatre admitted as he straddled Trowa’s lap.

He wiggled around until he was in position and, holding himself open, he slid himself down on Trowa’s angry red shaft.

Beneath him, Trowa let out a garbled moan as his powerful hips thrust roughly, impaling Quatre all the way! Quatre gasped, caught a little off guard by the powerful trust, and caught onto the leash that was still attached to Trowa’s collar.

“I want to hear you,” Quatre panted as he tried to adjust. “Will you tell me to stop again if I remove the gag?”

Quickly, Trowa shook his head no. His jaw was starting to ache and his mouth was going dry, but he had no way of asking for such a thing without stopping the whole encounter. He was grateful to be given the chance to be rid of it.

Leaning down, Quatre removed the gag. He tossed it aside and kissed Trowa feverishly, something that was reciprocated eagerly. Quatre had a bit of an oral fixation and he loved the taste of Trowa on his lips.

“Mmm… please….” Trowa purred, when Quatre pulled away. He was bucking under Quatre, trying to get in deeper, ready to continue.

“Please what?” Quatre demanded, slowly rocking his hips, trying to control the pace.

“Please Master Quatre,” Trowa panted. “Let me see you… let me…” he rolled his hips a little, trying to beg for more. Quatre’s body was warm and tight and Trowa wanted nothing more than to bury himself in him over and over again.

Quatre debated that before speaking, “I’ll take off the blindfold… but not just yet.”

Trowa let out a little whimper, but nodded.

Taking a breath, Quatre lifted himself and then lowered himself onto Trowa. The young man was big - considerably bigger than himself. He closed his eyes and with a hand fisting Trowa’s leash, the other braced on Trowa’s flat stomach, he worked his hips, up and down, slowly at first, despite Trowa’s attempts to buck under him.

Once he was used to the burning intrusion, Quatre began to pick up the pace. He rode Trowa harder and faster, gasping when he felt Trowa’s cock prod against his prostate.

There!

He wouldn’t last too much longer, so he quickly undid Trowa’s blindfold, watching with hazy eyes as Trowa’s tried to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. He worked himself onto Trowa’s lap, doing his best not to be knocked off with the way Trowa was bucking into him - it almost reminded him of that one time he was talked into riding that mechanical bull at a corporate party.

Trowa’s eyes were filled with lust as he looked at the image before him - a pale blond man, slender in physique, riding his dick with a hand on his leash. If Trowa hadn’t been in a cock ring, he knew he wouldn’t have lasted this long.

Quatre watched those lusty eyes as he reached down to stroke himself. “I’m going to cum on you, sexy,” he panted, stroking faster at Trowa’s hips threatened to knock him off balance. He rolled his head back and let out a choked moan, spilling his semen all over Trowa’s torso, “Mmm… you look like a fucking porn star,” Quatre purred. Trowa inside him, looking so deliciously wanton beneath him, was a wet dream come true. His senses reeled from his orgasm and he knew he didn’t have much time.

He was quite sated and his limbs were getting heavy. He wouldn’t have much coordination left in a few moments, so with a quick movement, he lifted his hips a little more, flipped the catch on Trowa’s cock-ring, and flung it away without caring where it went. Beneath him, Trowa let out a scream and went wild, trying to get inside as deeply as he could.

“FUCK!” Trowa cried, tears in his eyes as he was finally allowed release. He desperately wished that he could hold on to those pale hips, to keep them in place as he filled his lover. His hips jerked and he groaned, his arms flexing as he pulled on his chains, “Fuck!” he gasped again, feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm, and yet unable to stop pumping his hips. It was the most intense orgasm he’d had in recent memory - even those illicit blow jobs in Quatre’s office, the one in the parking lot, the one in the elevator couldn’t hold a candle to it.

“What did you do to me?” Trowa panted, shivering as Quatre lifted himself off him.

Quatre just laughed a little and leaned down to kiss him once more, not caring that he was getting semen all over his own chest. “I’m making you enjoy this…” he purred, “My pet.”

When Quatre peeled himself off of Trowa and walked toward the bathroom, Trowa could see the glistening of his cum seeping from Quatre’s backside and down his leg. Looking down at himself, he groaned when he realized that Quatre had taken him bareback.

“I’m going to shower - I’ll be right back,” Quatre called out. “Oh, and before I forget,” he added, “I want to hear you cum again.”

Trowa lifted his head weakly, unsure what Quatre was talking about, and then noticed Quatre had a camera set up and a remote in his hand. He was about to ask what it was for when suddenly the plug still embedded inside him sprung to life.

Trowa yelped and squirmed, but he was helpless. He writhed on the bed, dreading that fucking red light on the camera pointed at him. In moments, his thoughts became a jumble of noise and all he could focus on was the vibrating and gyrating of the thing Quatre had crammed up his ass.

Quatre was quick with his shower - he had a pet to torture, after all. Since he’d already showered earlier, all he had to do was get the sticky mess off him. He didn’t even get his hair wet. As he shut off the water and dried himself with a fluffy towel, he heard Trowa groaning and cursing in the other room, making his sated cock twitch. He wrapped himself in a robe and soaked a clean washcloth with warm water. Wringing it out, he smiled as he heard Trowa’s voice crack and the bed squeak with the strain he was putting on it.

Walking into the bedroom, he saw Trowa ejaculate all over himself, hips high in the air, body tense as a bowstring. He flicked the power off on the remote and after seeing Trowa collapse onto the bedding, panting and sweaty, he turned off the camera. That would be a treat for later.

Quatre padded over to Trowa’s prone form and gently cleaned him of the mess all over his lap and torso and removed the plug. He brushed Trowa’s damp bangs away from his face and gently kissed him.

“You were amazing, my pet,” he whispered, but those green eyes were too far gone, exhausted, to stay open.

Gently, he unfettered his exhausted lover, carefully examining him to ensure he’d not been injured in any way, and smiled when Trowa mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

Quatre did not want to admit how fond he had become of his intern, and he did not want to dwell upon what would happen in a few weeks when Trowa would no longer be required to show up in his office every morning.

When the internship ended, so would their affair - and for some reason, the prospect did not sit well with Quatre.

Though comparatively small in stature and slender of frame, Quatre was able to gather the taller, lankier, generally larger man in his arms, smiling indulgently as the man wrapped his arms around Quatre’s neck and shoulders unconsciously. Slowly, and with much determination, Quatre carried his lover in a bridal carry up the stairs and into the first guest room he could get to.

By the time he deposited Trowa’s body on the bed, his arms were threatening to give out and his whole body screamed from the exertion, but he promised himself he would take care of Trowa, and that’s what he would do.

He tucked Trowa in and turned out the lights, making sure to leave all of Trowa’s discarded belongings (that had been left in the basement level bathroom) in the room with him.

\---

The next morning, when Trowa awoke, he was naked in bed with blue sheets and a striped comforter. The room was very obviously a guest room and his backpack was sitting on a chair not far from the door. On the night stand, he found an envelope that simply read, “My Pet,” with the money that Quatre had promised him… and he couldn’t help but feel… cold.

Why did he want more from a man who used him for sex? Why did he want the gentle touches and warm voice from last night to mean more than a transaction?

Trowa angrily brushed the tears out of his eyes. He’d made himself a whore for Mr. Quatre Winner - he needed the money and Winner had tons of it. He shouldn’t mean anything. He was just a rich bastard, like the rest of them that would pay for sex without a second thought.

So why, _WHY_ , did he suddenly wish things could be different?

And then, he noticed the bell on the pillow beside him, and looking at his hand, he could see the imprint of the metal on his skin.

Winner was a bastard, alright, but he kept his promise.


	4. Ending Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of Unexpected Surprises with a happy ending - because I like happy endings. 
> 
> The tables turn and Quatre finds that he enjoys not being in control all the time.

**Ending Surprise**

Warnings: Dubcon, Dom!Trowa, leather and chains, language and erratic POV changes. And HeeroxDuo mentioned. I don't really care that it's not canon because this is an AU.

Enjoy!

* * *

 

The first time I met Mr. Winner, I didn’t know who he was.

I had hit a rough patch when my P.O.S. van decided it needed an alternator and, who knew? Cars can’t run without one. I had been in the process of swearing up a storm at the university parking lot when one of the guys in my senior seminar class stopped by on his way to his jeep and offered to lend a hand.

Duo, was his name. We’d met before, a couple of times, growing up – a time in my life I didn’t want to be reminded of, mind you – and I’d seen him around campus a few times. We’d even attended a few of the core classes together. It was impossible to miss Duo Maxwell – the guy had a thick head of hair so long that it trailed below his ass when he braided it down his back. He’d always had that braid. In fact, when I first met him when we were thirteen, I’d initially thought he was a loud-mouthed, annoying, skinny-ass tomboy.

Imagine my surprise when the kid decked me for calling him a girl.

We met and lost touch several times as teenagers. We were both in the system, and Duo eventually ended up at some church-run orphanage and I got into a foster home and then another and then another.

It could have been better and it also could have been worse.

When I was 16, I was able to get a job at a grocery store, so that bit helped. One of the first things I bought with my first paycheck was a small safe for $50 that would fit in my bug out bag under my bed. Since I couldn’t open a bank account without a parent or guardian and since I didn’t trust any adult to not give me the shaft, I cashed my checks at the grocery store, letting them take their 2% cut, and kept the rest locked up in that little safe.

The day I turned 18, I did three things: I took a driver’s test, opened a bank account, and bought a crappy car - in cash. When I turned 18, I also got my ass into college. The foster parents couldn’t do much for me; they had more foster kids on the way.

I was dead weight and I knew it. So I left.

I managed to get into a community college with the financial aid that was afforded to wards of the state, and I more or less lived out of my crappy little Dodge Caravan between couch surfing among friends. I took all the classes I could there for cheap, then transferred to the university. By the time I did that, I was no longer _required_ to stay at the overpriced dorms, because I was coming in as a junior.

Getting through classes at the university level was harder - mostly because the classes were damn expensive and nearly every penny I made since getting a job as a bartender when I turned 21 went towards my education. I wanted to go into business law, but halfway through my senior year, I started to think it was impossible. How could I get into the law program when I could barely make ends meet? And I couldn’t even take out a decent loan because, guess what? When you don’t have a permanent address, no one wants to lend you money. Oh, and I didn’t have parents to cosign for shit.

I had a buddy whose roommate bugged out on her on short notice. She let me stay at her place, provided I pay rent for several months. It was nice to get a fucking shower every night without having to sneak into the gym at school to do so. It really took a load off the second half of my senior year to have a place to go. But then the summer of hell began.

I had already applied to graduate halfway through that spring semester when the professor for my senior seminar class dropped a bomb on us: For those of us who had not had an internship yet, we needed to get one for the summer. He would not release our grade for graduation (which was not due until the end of July, even though graduation was in May) until we had satisfactorily completed this requirement.

That meant that I needed an internship, I had to stick with it for at least three weeks, AND I had to get a glowing review and a paper in by July 30th or I wouldn’t graduate until the winter. And if I didn’t graduate in May, I would miss the deadline for my law school application and I would be screwed for another year.

I really should have given up then, but I wanted to make something of myself and living out of my car was not going to cut it.

So I worked my ass off, I went on interviews, and I got myself a coveted internship at WinnCorp, a WEI company. I had thought I was finally getting that so-called “break” people get in movies when my alternator crapped out on me.

And that’s where my story with Mr. Winner began, and I’m right back to the beginning - meeting Duo at the university parking lot.

After we figured out what the hell was wrong with my van, Duo took me out for a coffee. He knew a guy who could fix it, but I didn’t have the $300 to get the thing fixed! I had just paid my share of the rent and bought some measly groceries. All I had in my account was about $200; half of which was already spoken for because I needed something professional to wear for the next three weeks and a shopping trip to the local thrift store was on my to-dos. I sort of spilled the beans, and my frustrations to my long-time acquaintance, and that’s when Duo suggested a ‘quick and easy’ way of making a grand in one night.

I balked, of course, knowing it had to be illegal, but then he begged me to hear him out. I don’t know how in the hell he talked me into it, but I agreed to sleep with one of his boyfriend’s friends for a night. He was supposed to be some sort of rich bastard that needed to get laid; some big-wig that never got out, or something like that. And, against my better judgment, I agreed to do it - provided he gave me half the money upfront.

If things went south, then I’d at least already have the cash to fix my car.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I let myself get literally fucked in a fancy-ass hotel room, took Duo’s money, and ran. I got my car fixed and was able to get my sorry self to ‘work’ on time the first day of my internship… only to find out that the man I’d sold myself for was my new boss.

I felt like such a whore, and I’m sure he knew it too.

Winner propositioned me, and I caved. I needed the internship too fucking much to let it slip through my fingers just because that sexy, warped blond was a horn ball. I should have been disgusted, but the man was fine, classy and smart. He liked to touch me and he liked to put me in compromising positions, but he was never outright cruel… though he did like to embarrass me.

He seemed to enjoy it when I was off balance.

I thought that I would only need to put up with his molestations for another week when the world just seemed hell bent on crashing down around my ears.

I left the office on time, as I usually did, and high tailed it to the club where I was going to be bartending until 2AM. Well… that didn’t happen. I got a flat tire, I was late, and I was fired on the spot when I tried to call the manager to tell him what was happening.

I managed to get the spare in and took the POC-mobile to get another tire, spending much more than I’d wanted to and then tiredly got back to the apartment I’d been sharing with Dot.

Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find that she and her girlfriend had spent the entire afternoon boxing my few belongings and moving her things in.

I wasn’t given any notice; I was back to living out of my vehicle. At least it had a functioning alternator and a new tire.

It wasn’t until I was gassing up that I thought to check for my lock box in my bug out bag, where I still hid some cash. The lock was broken and I was missing about a hundred dollars. When I called Dot to ask her about it, she blew me off and said she had nothing to do with it. That bitch was a liar, but by then, the money had probably already been spent.

My day was going from bad to worse, and then it began to rain.

I had nowhere to go, but as I was driving, thinking I could park in the WinnCorp parking lot for the night, I noticed that Mr. Winner’s light was still on in his office and his car was still in the garage.

I don’t know what came over me, but I left the relative safety of my vehicle and sought him out. I went up to his office and I asked Mr. Winner to let me take him up on his offer from the first night we met. My stomach was in knots as I stood in front of that unflappable man, basically begging him to take me on as his whore, but two grand wasn’t anything to sneeze at - all I had to do was shut the hell up and spread my legs. That wasn’t too difficult - except that it hurt my pride. What little I had left of it.

I admit, I had little idea what I’d signed up for and it scared me shitless… but in the end, I got three grand out of the deal, not two. It was more money than I’d ever had at one time and whatever Winner put me through would be worth it.

He must be an angel and a devil, I decided. His hands and kisses were gentle. His voice like smooth honey. He called me pet names and gave me the most mind blowing orgasms of my life - all I had to do was let him. It was both disconcerting and liberating. I don’t think I could describe what he did to me if my life depended on it.

The last thing I remember was passing out to a gentle caress in that playroom of his, splayed out on that large bed, looking as debauched as one can look, with cum cooling on my heated skin.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up the following morning to a cheery blue and white guest room, birds chirping outside the window, at 9AM on a Saturday.

How the _fuck_ did I even get here? Last I remember, I was in the basement. Surely he couldn’t have carried me all the way up. The man may be strong, but he’s fucking tiny!

I rubbed my face and looked around, my eyes spotting a guest bathroom, which I made use of. I really do love showers.

As I stood there, under the heat of the spray, I began to think of all my options. I didn’t have many. I needed to finish this internship, get my papers in order, and get my degree so that I could be accepted into law school. Or I could drop out and all this time and money and energy would be for nothing.

NO! I can’t sabotage myself. I need to at least get my degree! If I can get Winner to give me a glowing review, even if I don’t get into law school, I can at very least, get a good job somewhere, right?

Right.

I turned off the shower and took my time in drying myself. I had a clean pair of underwear and jeans and a tee in my bag and I put them on before steeling my courage and opening the door to the rest of the house. I needed more time. And I had an idea.

~~~~~~

The next morning was a little awkward.

I didn’t know what to expect, really. I didn’t make it a habit to bring people home and though I had a lot of _toys,_ most of them were unused. I was more a collector than I was a practitioner. I had a kink for the BDSM scene, and I often played with myself, but save for the occasional romp, I kept to myself. No one needs to know what I’m into, and I like keeping it that way. When I DID have a _guest_ over, they’d be gone by a certain time. It was in the contract. There was always a time limit… but not with Trowa. With Trowa, the rules had been different from the beginning.

I was downstairs, in the kitchen, wearing a pair dark blue silk pajamas and the matching silk robe, having breakfast and coffee when Trowa padded in. He was dressed, but still barefoot. That meant he wasn’t running away just yet. Then again, we’d left his vehicle at the office.

“Would you care for some breakfast?” I asked, standing to pour myself another cup of coffee.

“If… if you’re sure I’m not imposing,” Trowa said, padding closer. There was an unreadable look on his face, and it puzzled me. Sometimes, I had the damnedest time reading him.

I loaded a plate up with some oatmeal and sausage and egg and toast - all of which had also been on my own plate - and set the plate down opposite where I had been sitting. I poured him a cup of coffee and offered him cream and sugar to doctor it up any way he liked.

The man ate mechanically, as if distracted. I put aside my tablet, where I had been looking at the few emails that had come in overnight and watched him. Did he always look this good in the morning?

Eventually, he looked up at me, looking like I’d caught him doing something inappropriate.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked, watching as he pushed his food around on his plate.

“Why would something be wrong?” he asked, defensively.

I raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at him with my fork, “You looked rather upset in my office last night… and you look pretty distracted today. Are you regretting what you did or is there something else on your mind?” I really hated to see him so ill at ease, but what did I know about Trowa Barton? Next to nothing, that’s what.

Trowa let out a long, shuddering sigh, braced his elbows on my breakfast table and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and suddenly I felt ashamed. What sort of landmine had I stepped on?!

Immediately, I stood, coming to his side, and wrapped an arm awkwardly around his shoulders. “Trowa? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Fuck, fuck, fuck! I thought I had been so careful! The thought of having physically hurt him turned my stomach, but he wasn’t speaking yet, so I tried again, “Please talk to me.”

Beneath me, I could feel Trowa trying to pull himself back together and he took a napkin to wipe his face. “I’m not hurt, Mr. Winner,” he said. “B-but… I need to ask you for something else.”

Here it comes - he needs more money. Did he have to try and manipulate me with the tears? That was low!

“Okay…?” I prompted, taking a step back, and then another. I reclaimed my seat and let him work up the nerve to ask. If he was going to try and gouge me for money, then let him say it. I wasn’t going to offer.

“I know I’m just an intern and you don’t know me well, and you can say no-”

“Trowa, just ask.” I did not like the way this normally (mostly confident) man had begun to grovel. Quit being such a girl, Trowa – ask for the damn money and move on!

“May I stay in your guest room for a few days?” he whispered, looking down at his plate. “Please, Mr. Winner. I have money now… I can pay rent…”

What? Well, that was unexpected…

“I don’t need your money,” I said impatiently, downing the rest of my coffee. This must be a joke - first he begs me for a gig and then he offers to pay me.

“There is more than one way to pay…” Trowa responded quietly, and the way he said it pulled at my heartstrings.

“Are you some sort of runaway?” Surely not! Surely he _must_ be older than a teenager! Only teenagers could be runaways, right? Hell, what have I gotten myself into?! The guy was old enough to be an intern and we only took seniors for that. Were college guys considered runaways if they left their parents’ protection? I’m not sure, but I sure as hell intend to find out!

“No, sir,” Trowa answered quietly. “I’m - I… I lost my job last night and my temporary living arrangement fell apart last night. I have no place to go… Please. I’ll only stay for a few days. A week, at the most. I need to finish that internship requirement so that I can graduate on time.”

“You do know that the program runs for another three weeks,” I said, looking at him skeptically. Why did it sound like he was signing his death warrant? Did he fear me _that_ much? Did I hurt him in ways I hadn’t predicted?

“Y-yes, sir, I know, but the requirement for my class is only through to next week… after that... “

“After that, you’ll be free to refuse me, or quit,” I finished for him, but nodded. Well at least he was honest. He’s looking forward to a time where he can tell me to shove off and his grade won’t be on the line. Clever. And for that, I give him credit. “You may stay, but I do have a condition.”

“You want to touch me? Fuck me?” Trowa asked, but he sounded a little miserable. Am I really that much of an undesirable?! No wonder Duo had to pay someone to get in my bed. Go me.

“Don’t steal from me,” I said, trying my damnedest to look more intimidating than I felt in my PJs, with the knowledge that this handsome man I’d come to enjoy seemed to hate my touches. I finished my meal and stood. I wasn’t really hungry after that exchange. And I wasn’t _that_ much of a monster. Yes, I’ve taken advantage of the situation, but this kid really needed some fucking help if he’s put up with me when he clearly doesn’t want it. And if it’s that bad, there’s something more going on that just “needing money” for hot rods or drugs or clothes or whatever frivolous things kids Trowa’s age spent money on. This was serious.

~~~~

The idea of sharing his home with another person was odd, but Quatre lived in a rather large house and Trowa kept mostly to himself. Later that afternoon, Quatre drove him to the office building so that he could pick up his vehicle, which, honestly, had seen better days. It looked like he was doing his best to take care of it, but there was only so much that one could do for a vehicle that was well over twenty years old and had obviously changed hands a few times.

Quatre left him there, telling him he’d be home in a couple of hours, which Trowa acknowledged before letting him know that he had to be at the school for something.

That was fine, as far as Quatre was concerned. He gave Trowa a time when he would be home and then left the man to his own devices. Quatre had a few errands to run, after all.

First things first: he called Rashid, the head of his security team and asked him to run a full background check on Trowa Barton. He had to know as much about the young man as he could get his hands on. He asked Rashid to dig up as much as he could - anything and everything he could find, but to keep his search confidential. And though he didn’t expect the man to work over the weekend, he gave him a deadline of 2PM on Monday.

After the call, Quatre went and got a new key cut for the young man and then went grocery shopping. He hated cooking for himself, but if there was going to be another person in the house, he wanted to make sure there were edible foodstuffs for him to have.

And finally, Quatre went ahead and created a guest login for his Wi-Fi and house alarm. If he was going to have someone other than a maid come into his home, he wanted to be hospitable.

Why did he go through all the trouble? Well, simply put, if Trowa was going to stay for about a week, it only made sense to give him access to the house without his having to be there. That would be an inconvenience. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own security detail monitoring the house 24x7 to keep an eye on things.

When Trowa got home late that Saturday night, Quatre was concerned. He looked a little gaunt and pale and he wondered if the young man had eaten all day.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge from last night and some sandwich fixings if you want,” Quatre said, having spotted Trowa coming in as he’d been going from the kitchen (with a glass of wine) to his office.

“Are you okay?” Quatre asked, frowning at how rough Trowa looked.

“I’m fine,” the young man said. “I don’t want to put you out,” he added.

Quatre waved a hand at him, “Please. You’re my guest. Help yourself to whatever you find in the fridge. I’ll be in my office. Also, I left a card in your room with the Wi-Fi password and your own alarm code. Also, I left you a key.”

“Wi-Fi?” Trowa asked, looking confused.

“You’re a student, right? Surely you need it to do homework or watch Netflix or whatever.”

“Thank you,” Trowa said, but then ducked away before Quatre could question the odd expression that crossed his face.

Sunday, Quatre hardly saw any of Trowa at all. After the young man had eaten breakfast, he was out the door. Quatre was halfway wondered what that was about, but then he was distracted by a call from one of his nieces. By the time he had the wherewithal to check the time, it was half past noon and Trowa was still out.

Thinking that Trowa was probably out looking for another part time job, Quatre went ahead and made himself a sandwich for lunch and was surprised to get an email from Rashid that afternoon about Trowa.

What was more surprising, and rather disturbing, was what he found out about him.

Two hours later and a scant three pages worth of info, Quatre could scarcely believe the life his intern led. The young man was an orphan, a ward of the state until he was 18. His biological sister and he had been separated and she ran away when she was only 16. He aged out of the system and got into school, but housing records were erratic. He had addresses at half a dozen places, but he didn’t pay utilities or rent or any of that. The only “permanent” address the young man had was a P.O. Box that had been his for a good four years.

His credit was crap, but then again, he didn’t have parents to countersign for loans, and it seemed like he’d never had an apartment in his own name.

Suddenly, Quatre felt ill.

He had been taking advantage of a young man that was doing his level best to get his life together in spite of what life had thrown at him. And, if he was reading between the lines correctly, Trowa was currently, and probably had been homeless for a long time. Maybe he _was_ a fucking monster.

That evening, Trowa came home looking very tired and Quatre wanted to ask what had happened. Instead, though, he asked Trowa to have some dinner (Quatre had made some pesto penne and chicken) and then asked about school. Apparently, Trowa was taking this one last class in addition to this last senior seminar class assignment. That, and he was looking for a job for when he graduated. Quatre had the distinct impression that it wasn’t what Trowa had wanted, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

Instead, he said, “You know, I have a wireless printer. You could print your papers here if you needed to. I recall the school charging for prints when I attended…”

“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Winner,” Trowa said, looking very embarrassed. More embarrassed than he should have.

“What’s wrong?” Quatre found himself asking.

“I umm… I don’t actually have a computer,” Trowa admitted after a very long silence. “I write my paper mostly by hand, and then I use the school computers to get my assignments in. Quatre was about to say something, but then Trowa stood. “I should go to bed. I need to get up early,” he said softly.

Quatre let him go, but he decided he wouldn’t let the issue go altogether. The next morning, Quatre offered Trowa a ride into work and was surprised when the young man accepted. They rode in silence most of the way, but that hardly bothered Quatre. He was too busy thinking about Trowa and what he could do to make the young man’s life a little better.

They fell into a rhythm, of sorts. They would ride to the office together, Trowa would fetch lunch for Quatre before disappearing for his own, then Trowa would hang around after work, typing on one of the work computers (with Quatre’s permission), doing his homework. The rhythm didn’t last too long though.

On Wednesday, Trowa insisted on taking his own vehicle. He had to go to the University for a Class and Quatre didn’t argue. Instead, he went home, dug up one of his older laptops and wiped it clean. He left it on Trowa’s bed, knowing he’d be home late, with a note asking him to accept the thing as a gift. It wasn’t new, or fast, or particularly impressive, but it was loaded with a word processor and it would help him get by.

And, he didn’t - and wouldn’t - ask for a single thing in return.

In fact, since that day he’d learned about his house guest, Quatre had not laid a hand on Trowa. He felt enough like a louse about what he’d already done, but he could at least curb his behavior going forward.

By the time Friday rolled around, Quatre could tell Trowa was wound up, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He’d been respectful, and though he’d flirted with the young man, he hadn’t demanded he drop his pants or drop to his knees. He hadn’t cornered him in the elevator to cop a feel, nor had he asked him into his office for a ‘meeting’ that involved Trowa splayed out on his desk for Quatre to feast upon his penis.

So what could possibly be off? Hadn’t he wanted a harassment free workplace?

Quatre drove both himself and Trowa to his house that Friday evening and parked in the garage. He led the way in through the door in the garage and to the kitchen where the maid had left a lasagna in the fridge to be warmed through. They ate in relative silence, and though Quatre wasn’t normally bothered by that, the looks Trowa was giving him were setting him on edge.

They were finishing up with dinner, Trowa taking the dishes over to the sink when Quatre decided he’d had enough.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, much too tired of Trowa’s kicked puppy routine.

“Nothing.”

“Bull. Crap,” Quatre said, hands on his hips. “You want to tell me what’s going on or do you plan on lying to me again?”

“Not really…” Trowa said, rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Tough. Now spill. You’ve been acting oddly all week. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Me?! _You_ have been acting oddly!” Trowa exploded, smacking the dishtowel in his hand against the counter forcefully. “You haven’t given me a second look all week, let alone touched me. Are you sick of me already?” Trowa asked. “What the fuck did I do? Is it because I asked to stay here? C’mon, Mr. Winner - tell me what the fuck I did. Are you going to trash me in my review or what? What do you need me to do to ensure a good fucking grade? It’s due on Monday and…” his voice cracked, “please… what can I do?” he asked, a little more demurely, having run out of steam. He sighed deeply and leaned heavily on the kitchen island, hands braced on the smooth marble countertop with his head hanging, defeated.

“I know I’m just a whore,” Trowa began, the muscles in his arms quivering, “but that didn’t seem to bother you before.”

Quatre let out a frustrated breath and scratched at the back of his head in irritation. He’d behaved himself all week and now Trowa was throwing it in his face. Wasn’t he giving him what he wanted?

He stalked over to his laptop case, fished out a sheet of paper, then stalked back and slammed it down in front of Trowa. It was his review.

“I sent a copy to your professor this morning,” Quatre told him. “I gave you a glowing review, like I said I would. I’m going up to my room,” he added, not wanting to deal with Trowa’s drama right then. He knew that Trowa probably didn’t like the attention he’d previously been giving him, hell, he _knew_ that Trowa could very well sue for sexual harassment and assault and Quatre would have no defense against it. He fucking _knew_ that making Trowa submit to his sexual desires over the last few weeks was wrong, but he selfishly didn’t stop himself from indulging and it wasn’t until he’d learned more about Trowa and his situation that he’d really stopped to evaluate his actions.

For Trowa, this wasn’t a game. This wasn’t an affair with the boss. This wasn’t even an arrangement to get a sure-fire A in his class. No… for Trowa, this arrangement was all that stood between him and getting ahead in life. For Trowa, Quatre posed a very real threat. For Trowa, this was survival.

That knowledge had the same effect as a cold shower on his libido. He couldn’t bring himself to grab at Trowa’s ass in the hall, much less do anything else to him all week. He’d been respectful, as he should have been all along, and because of his own previous misconduct, Trowa was edgy and suspicious of his change of heart.

Climbing up the stairs, he made a beeline to the bathroom and took a shower. He changed into comfortable lounge pants, but didn’t bother with a shirt. He activated the sound system and set it to a classical music station as he made his way to the armchair facing the window with a towel draped over his shoulders to catch any remaining dampness from his hair.

It was a clear night out, and Quatre was once again reminded of why he’d bought this house to begin with. Being out in the country, with few properties developed, and sitting high on a hill, he had a magnificent view of the city.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there listening to the music and enjoying the view when Trowa knocked at his door, making Quatre jump. Trowa had never before been up to his room and the idea of him being up there stirred his imagination - something he had to stamp down on rather forcefully.

“Come in,” he called out, his eyes never leaving the window.

He heard Trowa come in and after a moment, he turned to look at him. The man was wearing a threadbare pair of dark green cotton pants and a white undershirt. He looked like the college kid he was and Quatre did his level best not to drool.

“What can I do for you?” Quatre asked, as if Trowa were any other person coming into his office.

Trowa shuffled for a bit, but then came closer. “I umm… I wanted to thank you for all the things you’ve done for me this week…” he began. He stepped right up to stand between Quatre’s legs where he sat and slowly sank to his knees. “I don’t have much, but I’d like to repay you,” he said, placing his hands on Quatre’s knees then leaned in, intent on nuzzling Quatre’s groin.

Quatre groaned and let his head roll back for a moment before putting a hand on Trowa’s shoulder, gently pushing him away. “S-stop,” he panted, willing himself to stop his body from responding. “There is no need for that… you’ve already done more than enough of that for me. We’re square.”

“But -” Trowa began in protest.

“No,” Quatre sighed, pushing him away a little more. “We’re not doing this anymore.”

Trowa looked up at him with a blank expression, but slowly pulled his hands away, “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, handsome. You did nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m a fucking bastard and I’ve been hurting you… I’m sorry.” Quatre leaned back against the backrest and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I never should have - anything. I should have let you go when I first walked into that hotel room where you were waiting for me. I had intended to, but I gave in to my weakness. I should have kept things professional at work, but instead, I treated you like a piece of meat. I can be better than that. I didn’t understand your situation and I am so fucking sorry I took advantage -”

“So you’re sorry now?” Trowa growled, cutting him off. “You what? Spied on me? What did you find? Did you find out that my own family abandoned me? Am I not good enough for you anymore?!” he seethed. “You paraded me around like a bitch on a leash and I took it! Now, you feel sorry for me and what? You pity me so much that you no longer want anything to do with me? Is that it?” he asked, standing, hands balled into fists. “Well FUCK. YOU. Mr. Winner.”

Trowa then stood, his whole body vibrating and stomped out, slamming the door behind him. Quatre heard him go downstairs and then heard another door slam.

In his room then.

Quatre sighed and went downstairs to grab himself a bottle of wine. He needed it.

He selected a bottle - one of the cheaper ones - and wondered why he didn’t take one sooner. He needed a little buzz and the less expensive ones were good for that. He then went and uncorked it, collecting a glass for himself on the way back up to his room. He was just settling in on his chair again, with his glass of wine when Trowa burst into the room with his backpack in hand. He was no longer wearing a shirt and he looked livid.

He was very unlike what Quatre had seen of him so far. Where he’d known Trowa to be rather submissive and quiet and willing to take Quatre’s abuse, this man exuded male confidence. He looked strong and powerful with hard corded muscle lying beneath smooth, tanned skin. He stood with his back straight and his chest out, green eyes burning with a fury and intensity that Quatre had not seen before. He was used to the tall man slouching, collapsing his shoulders to make himself seem smaller; The man that stood before him was a different Trowa than he’d gotten to know, and it was hot.

He knew what Trowa’s body looked like. He’d examined it at length, but this… this was different. This was the stuff his wet dreams were made of and, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights, he had enough wherewithal to take a drink from his glass.

Trowa’s sharp green eyes narrowed in his direction and he dumped the contents of the backpack he held on Quatre’s bed: All toys and gear from his playroom. How had he gotten in there?!

Trowa crossed the room in five steps and took the glass forcefully from Quatre’s hand, managing not to spill, while wrapping his other hand around Quatre’s slender neck. He forced the shorter man up from his seat, Quatre’s pale hands holding on to Trowa’s strong wrist and forearm. He desperately tried to dislodge the grip, but then Trowa squeezed, making Quatre panic and gasp for air.

“Trow-ah!” he choked, bright blue eyes looking up at molten green.

“Don’t you dare beg,” Trowa seethed. “You fucked me. You humiliated me. You made me get on my knees for you, bend over for you, and submit myself to you. I did it with little complaint and now I’m not fucking good enough for you? I told you - FUCK. You. After all that, I want you. It’s your turn to be a whore, Mr. Win- no... Your name is _Pussy_ Quat.” Trowa smirked and licked Quatre’s cheek. “Let’s see how you like being used, pussy-Quat.”

Quatre shivered, and tried to claw at Trowa’s forearm with blunt fingernails, but it didn’t do any good. His cock was stirring in his loose pants and he prayed to whatever debauched deity was out there to keep it coming. He did deserve this - he’d assaulted Trowa countless times. He’d done even worse to him in his fantasies. Trowa deserved retribution, and Quatre was getting a little lightheaded both from desire and from the strong hold on his neck that was cutting off oxygen.

“You thought you’d get drunk and forget about what you did to me?” Trowa asked, downing what was left in the wine glass before setting it down and going for the bottle. “Then let’s get you drunk,” he said, putting the mouth of the bottle to Quatre’s lips. “Open up and drink, bitch,” he hissed, relaxing his hold on that pale neck as he forced Quatre to gulp down half the bottle in one go.

Pulling the bottle away, Quatre gasped. He’d had way too much way too fast and already he was starting to feel the effects. He groaned when Trowa leaned in and kissed him, shoving that long, talented tongue down his throat before violently shoving him away in the general direction of the bed.

Quatre tripped over himself, but his top half did land partially on the bed, meanwhile, Trowa stalked to the door and locked it.

“You know how to work that shit. Put them on, NOW,” Trowa commanded, pacing in front of the bed. “Don’t fucking try anything and hurry the hell up!” he demanded, grabbing the collar as Quatre hesitantly moved to grab one of the cuffs.

Roughly, he put the collar over Quatre’s neck and stood behind him, fastening it rather snugly. He then turned the older man around, hooked a finger in the D ring in the front, and pulled up. He put the bottle to Quatre’s lips again and poured more wine into Quatre’s mouth. “Drunk enough to want me in your bed yet?” he sneered, before shoving Quatre back at the bed. “Put. Them. On.”

This time, though sputtering a little, Quatre hurried to comply. He fastened a leather cuff on each wrist, buckling it securely and then moved to his ankles. He _did_ have experience in putting these things on himself - tipsy or not - he often did when he indulged in fantasies and self-gratification.

Trowa, though, was losing patience and his nerve. He put the wine bottle to his lips and took a swig before setting it down and accosting Quatre again. He pulled Quatre by the collar, further up onto the bed, so that his head was nearly at the pillows. Quatre, having a bit of a sense of preservation, held onto the wrist that led him by the collar and scrambled up the bed. When Quatre was where Trowa wanted him he straddled the man’s chest, yanking his arms above his head. Trowa took a length of chain he’d found downstairs, and wove it through the iron bars of Quatre’s bed. Of course his head and foot board were made of wrought iron - Trowa wasn’t exactly surprised by it.

Fishing into his pocket, he retrieved a carabiner. He clipped it to the D-rings on Quatre’s wrist cuffs and then to the chain, keeping Quatre’s arms above his head. That done, he looked down at his captive and threaded his fingers through the silken golden strands of Quatre’s hair, forcing his head up and back uncomfortably to ravage his mouth. He probed Quatre’s orifice hungrily, delving deeply in a possessive way, daring Quatre to refuse him again.

“You don’t get to throw me away, pussy-Quat,” Trowa growled as he broke the kiss.

The look that Trowa gave him had Quatre breathless. The young man looked downright predatory and it stirred him in ways he hadn’t been in ages.

“You don’t get to fucking toy with me and then decide I’m not worth your time anymore!” he said - his tone was angry, but the look he gave Quatre broke Quatre’s heart. It was vulnerable. It was lonely. Trowa was _hurt_ by Quatre’s dismissal more than he’d ever been at being used for sex.

He lifted himself onto his knees for a moment and pushed down his pants, fishing out his half-hard penis to rub the head against Quatre’s full lips.

“Come on, pussy-Quat… lick it,” he teased, then pushed past Quatre’s lips when Quatre opened his mouth to do just that. He held onto Quatre’s hair as he pumped his hips, moaning in pleasure as Quatre’s hot mouth enveloped him. Smirking, he held that head still as he thrust in deeper, enjoying it when it was Quatre’s turn to choke on dick.

“I see why you like doing that,” he admitted as he pulled out of Quatre’s mouth, watching him cough and sputter, “It gives you a real rush, doesn’t it?”

But Trowa didn’t let him answer. Instead, he covered Quatre’s mouth with a large hand and leaned in so that he could stare down at the blond. “You know what I want,” he whispered, satisfied when Quatre nodded. “You used me when you knew I couldn’t deny you… and you enjoyed it.”

Quatre looked away, ashamed of himself, but nodded.

“Look at me, bitch,” Trowa growled and Quatre snapped his eyes back up to the man above him. “It’s my turn. I’m going to fuck that tight ass of yours just like you did me, and I’m not going to give you a chance to say no,” he whispered hotly.

Quatre whimpered and closed his eyes, not putting much of a fight when Trowa pressed one of Quatre’s larger gags in his mouth. It wasn’t the rubber ball - it was the white, hard plastic one with the holes. The one that would make him drool.

Trowa fastened the gag and leaned back to look over his quarry. He started having second thoughts about what he wanted to do to his blond tormentor, but then he got off his chest and noticed that Quatre wasn’t only tenting in his pants, but that he had a very large and very conspicuous wet spot.

Frowning, he grabbed Quatre by the hair again and made him look up at him. “You know what I’m doing to you, don’t you?” he asked, and Quatre nodded a bit. “I didn’t give you a bell, or give you an out - I practically told you that I’m going to rape your skinny ass and you’re getting off on it?” Trowa waited for a moment, but all Quatre did is nod. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” Again, a nod.

Trowa smirked, “Well then… I suppose that’s consent. I can’t get arrested now… but that doesn’t change anything...” he let Quatre’s hair go and then moved his hands to Quatre’s pants, yanking them off forcefully, making Quatre yelp.

“Keep making those sounds, pussy-Quat. I want you screaming. And since you have no neighbors nearby… I’m going to make you hoarse.”

Quatre whimpered then yelped when Trowa yanked at his feet, dragging him down on the bed until his arms were taut above his head. Trowa used another length of chain and secured one of his legs to the foot of the bed, leaving very little slack for Quatre to move.

The other leg, Trowa bent, pressing the knee against Quatre’s chest as he secured it with a length of chain to the headboard. Unlike the other bindings, this leg did have plenty of slack, but no matter how Quatre moved, he couldn’t put his foot down on the bed. The position left him very exposed and Trowa took a minute to admire the view.

“You know what I’m going to do now, don’t you?” Trowa purred, pulling out the camera that Quatre had left in his playroom.

Quatre shook his head no, but Trowa photographed him all the same. He looked fucking delicious, all trussed up and ready to be ravished.

“You’re beautiful, pussy-Quat,” he groaned, setting down the camera and stroking his cock. It was throbbing and heavy between his legs, and seeing Quatre spread like that, he wanted nothing more than to be positioned between those creamy thighs.

He finished kicking off his pants and crawled onto the bed, peppering kisses up the smooth skin of Quatre’s legs, surprised at just how smooth they were.

“You’re a vain thing, aren’t you, pussy?” he smirked as he licked Quatre’s inner thigh, sucking on the soft skin. “Or did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Quatre groaned and thrust his hips a little, making Trowa smirk. “Have you ever been eaten out before?” he asked, looking up to see the startled, and dazed look Quatre gave him. He looked almost frightened at the prospect and shook his head no.

_No… not that_ , Quatre thought as Trowa’s lips made his way further. The man spread his legs wide and lifted him a little, hooking one of Quatre’s legs over his shoulder as he leaned in, stubble scratching his soft skin just moments before the hot breath was followed by a slick tongue.

It didn’t take long for Quatre to be reduced to a bundle of nerves. He cried and screamed and bucked, trying to get away, but Trowa’s grip was too strong on him. It was torturous - it tickled and felt good at the same time. Quatre’s body didn’t know how to respond. He nearly violently tried to get away, but Trowa’s steadfast hands kept him open as a slick tongue prodded him. When he came, he was sobbing. He’d never had so much stimulation in his LIFE and it was far from over.

Was this how he’d made Trowa feel that night with the vibrator?

Trowa pulled away from his hole and looked down Quatre’s body, at the mess the blond had made all over himself and laughed. “You already came? Let’s see how many more times you’ll manage that,” he grinned. He stroked Quatre’s softening shaft, ignoring the man’s muffled protests, and thrashing limbs. He sucked on those soft balls and took the flaccid dick in his mouth, teasing Quatre into a state of semi-firmness again.

Looking down at him, he smirked, “That’s better. You look so fuckable like that, you rich whore.”

The word made Quatre’s cock twitch, and his body blush even more, if that was possible. He was getting off on being called such filthy things and he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted to fight him, to protest, but he was afraid of Trowa actually withdrawing without finishing.

He felt around the bed and found the lube he’d been looking for. Coating his fingers, he didn’t give any warning before pressing two into Quatre’s ass, watching in satisfaction as Quatre jerked, trying to get away.

“You’re going to get much more than my fingers, bitch,” Trowa promised darkly, probing Quatre with a third.

Quatre yelped and bucked and then suddenly began thrashing when Trowa found that spongy area that made Quatre see stars.

_Please… please…_ Quatre begged, but it was garbled with the gag in his mouth and the drool he couldn’t help but produce.

Trowa prodded him, gleefully, watching Quatre’s pale body twist and writhe. It wasn’t until Quatre was sobbing that Trowa finally let up. He quickly poured lube in his hand and coated his erection, wiping his hand on the bedding to get rid of the excess. Without further warning, he guided the head to Quatre’s entrance and pressed inside, his fingers holding onto those creamy hips as he guided the thick column of flesh into that resistant passage.

Though he’d prepped the blond, the penetration was still difficult. He was rather well endowed and now that he was in control, he wanted every inch of Quatre’s body as he could force his way into.

“You’re tight, little pussy-Quat,” Trowa purred, seating himself all the way, watching Quatre’s head thrash back and forth, framed by pale arms. He leaned in and licked Quatre’s ear, loving the feeling of Quatre shuddering beneath him. “So tight and so helpless…” he purred. “I see why you get off on this, you fucking pervert,” he whispered hotly.

Quatre gasped and Trowa could feel how his legs strained; he was ready.

Trowa began rocking into him, each thrust eliciting a cry from Quatre’s lips. The sounds he was making were like a drug and he could tell that the alcohol he’d forced the blond to drink was helping the body relax beneath him. Trowa pounded into him, making his lover cum a second time, but it wasn't enough! He was so close, but it just wasn't enough!

With a quick motion, he unclasped the fetter that kept Quatre’s one leg up with in the air and pulled out for a moment. He then bent his body and undid the clasp to Quatre’s other foot then flipped the blond onto his stomach, leaving him scrambling to prop himself up on his knees.

He didn't give Quatre the opportunity to settle, instead, he grabbed Quatre’s hips with large hands and parted his cheeks. He poised his still throbbing erection and plunged in, giving a satisfied him when Quatre screamed.

His hips worked furiously, pinning the smaller man beneath him until Quatre's knees gave out and he was lying flat on his stomach with Trowa mercilessly pumping into his hole. He couldn’t contain himself; he’d never felt so primal in his life! Trowa growled filthy things in Quatre’s ear and enjoyed the whimpered responses as he nipped at the soft flesh of Quatre’s shoulder. Right then, nothing else mattered – he needed to claim the man beneath him.

By that point, Quatre was delirious and his eyelids were heavy, and still, Trowa fucked him harder than he'd ever been had before. The position was not the most comfortable, but it gave Trowa the angle, the tightness, and the right visual stimulus to have himself blow his load inside the illustrious Quatre Winner - aka pussy-Quat. And still, he thrust, trying to prolong the experience, until his arms gave out and he’d been milked dry.

It was the most fucking amazing and satisfying orgasm Trowa had experienced.

It took some effort and force of will to reach up and disengage the carabiner from the chain and then from the cuffs on Quatre’s wrists. He was exhausted and he was sated and he didn’t give one whit about the mess he and Quatre were laying in. The one last act of lucidity he accomplished was to unbuckle the strap that kept the ball gag in Quatre’s mouth. He tossed the thing aside and turned Quatre just enough so that he could tilt his head in just the right way to claim one more wine-flavored kiss. Right then, he didn’t really give a shit that Quatre was passed out.

Even if nothing else in his life went as planned, in that moment, he had something that was his and his alone; Quatre Winner’s body. No one could take this away from him. He had claimed Quatre in the most barbaric way known to man and for at least this one night, nothing could mar that.

His softening dick slid out from the warm heat of Quatre’s body and holding Quatre tightly, Trowa drew up the throw blanket from the foot of the bed; he was too tired to get under the covers properly. He settled into a restful sleep, possessively clinging to his prize.

\------

The next morning, Quatre woke up with a killer headache and dried flakes of bodily fluid on his skin, making him itch. At his back was Trowa, his strong arms holding Quatre in place most of the night, but by morning, the weight of his heavy limbs were making some of his own, namely his arm and hip, fall asleep uncomfortably.

He carefully extracted himself from the bed, and to his amusement, Trowa hardly stirred as he squirmed out of his grasp, replacing his body with a pillow for Trowa to hold on. Stretching, he stifled a groan at the various cracks and creaks his back made and padded softly to the bathroom to shower.

He removed the collar and cuffs from his extremities and stepped into the hot spray of his shower, carefully taking stock of his body. He hadn’t been trussed up quite like that in ages, if ever, and it had been fantastic. He knew that if he were to ever share what happened to anyone else, they’d think poorly of Trowa and pity him. What kind of a sick fuck was he that he got off on what any other sane person would classify as abuse?

But he wasn’t hurt, not really. He had welts on his shoulder from where Trowa’s mouth had staked a claim, his wrists and neck were a little red, but that came from sleeping in hardware and would fade quickly. His backside was sore, but Trowa was well endowed – he’d be sore no matter what – and he had the beginnings of small finger-shaped bruises on his hips. That wasn’t Trowa’s fault either. He was quite pale and bruised easily. Besides, they didn’t hurt and it was fucking hot to look down at himself and see where Trowa had possessively held him.

Trowa had given him his biggest wet-dream fantasy last night and … he wanted it again. He wanted that man to pin him and kiss him and press that hard, cut body against his own. He wanted the demanding kisses and the forced submission – he wanted to give up control in this one aspect of his life, but he’d never trusted anyone enough to take it from him.

Until last night.

Quatre let out a shaky breath and stroked himself, just thinking about last night. Things could have gone horribly wrong – but they didn’t. The truth was that he still wanted Trowa, even when he’d rejected him, no longer wanting to take advantage of his handsome intern. He’d planned to jerk off to the film he’d taken of Trowa being forced into orgasm that last time when Trowa had come back and changed his evening plans.

He shut off the spray and stepped outside the shower, his head swimming in thoughts of Trowa. Sweet, sexy, shy Trowa. Who would have guessed that such a sweet pet could turn into a sexy beast of a lover if pushed?

Quatre dried off and put on some soft cotton pants before donning a terrycloth robe to keep the chill off and absorb some of the water that clung to his hair from dripping down his neck and went in search of coffee. He should let Trowa sleep a little longer – he had a big decision to make.

\---

When Trowa woke up, he was alone in bed. A bed that was not his own, and was much larger than any bed he’d ever slept in. With a start, he sat upright and looked around, his stomach doing a flip when the memories of last night came flooding back. With a curse, he jumped out of bed, grabbed his (empty) backpack and discarded pants and ran like the wind downstairs to the guest room he’d occupied for a week.

He threw his stuff on the bed and dashed into the bathroom for a quick shower, not even bothering to wait for the water to warm up a bit before jumping in. He hurriedly scrubbed down and rinsed and was back out of the shower in less than four minutes.

Hastily, he dried off, put on some pants and an undershirt, and then manically went through the contents of the bedroom to gather his few meager belongings. Why had he emptied his bug-out bag for last night’s fling?! FUCK!

Trowa didn’t even bother putting on shoes as he flung the strap over his shoulder and opened the door, ready to split before Quatre could call the fuzz on him, or do something worse.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Quatre called out from the kitchen island where he sat on a tall stool sipping at his coffee.

Trowa stopped in his tracks, only a few steps from the door; from freedom.

“Get your ass over here, Barton,” Quatre barked, seeing how the young man looked ready to bolt. _That_ certainly would not do. When Trowa didn’t come back in, Quatre put his cup of coffee down with an air of finality, and used his executive voice, “Trowa. Get in here.”

Trowa swallowed thickly and moved away from the front door, padding barefoot, as quietly and meekly as he could, into the kitchen, where Quatre sat in a fluffy pale blue terrycloth robe, dark blue lounge pants, and nothing more. His hair was still slightly damp and Trowa could see a faint red mark or two on his pale skin.

Standing in Quatre’s presence, was making him tremble. What the hell had gotten into him?! This man had the ability to ruin his life!

“Mr. Winner, I- I’m sorry,” Trowa began, one hand fisting at his side while the other worried at the strap over his shoulder.

Quatre held up a hand, “Stop, I don’t want to hear it,” he told him, giving Trowa a piercing look. He watched Trowa squirm while he took another sip of coffee, then spoke. “Of course, I don’t expect that it needs to be said, but you do realize you’re fired, don’t you?”

Trowa swallowed thickly, but nodded. He couldn’t look up at Quatre any more, his face burning in shame and moisture collecting at the corners of his eyes. Why had he fucked this up?

“Trowa,” Quatre sighed, standing, leaving his mug on the counter. “Drop the bag and come here.”

Trowa did as he was told, but his body language was once again that of a kicked puppy. When he came near enough, Quatre grabbed him by the belt loop and tugged him in close, wrapping his arms around the slender waist.

Startled, Trowa froze. What the hell? “M-Mr. Winner?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“That’s not what you called me last night,” Quatre whispered, leaning his head against Trowa’s strong shoulder.

Trowa hesitantly wrapped his arms around the smaller man and it took a few tries before he could make his voice cooperate. “I-I don’t understand…” he whispered, sounding incredibly vulnerable.

Listening to that tone in his voice made Quatre’s heart break; how could such a handsome, strong, resilient man be so fragile? Quatre looked up at those timid green eyes and gently wiped away the beginnings of a tear, “I want you to stay, Trowa. I… am becoming attached to you. More than that, if I’m being uncomfortably honest, and… and I don’t date my interns.”

Trowa’s heart hammered in his chest, _date?_

“I thought I was a whore…”

“And apparently, I’m a pussy,” Quatre deadpanned.

The disgruntled look from such a disheveled and pouty blond make Trowa laugh but now, the arms around Quatre were less tentative and more relaxed.

“So what happens now?” Trowa asked, almost afraid to do so. Praying this wasn’t a setup, he held his breath.

“Now, you sit down with me and have breakfast and a conversation. A real conversation. On Monday, you’ll ride with me into the office and I’ll have you reassigned to someone else, if you’re still interested in finishing out your internship, though you won’t be working for me. At the end of the work day, you come home with me and we will have dinner together.”

“And after?” Trowa whispered. “When my internship is done and classes start up again?”

“Are you planning on disappearing?” Quatre frowned. “Because I want you to stay. Move in with me. I have the room, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Winner?” Trowa asked breathlessly. Trowa couldn’t believe his ears. No one seemed to give a real shit about him all his life and now, of all the people he’d ever met, the man he’d sold himself to in an act of desperation was giving him a place to stay. A permanent one?

Quatre’s eyes narrowed and he reached up to fist a hand in Trowa’s hair, pulling him down for a savage kiss, “Don’t call me Mr. Winner – unless you want to play. My name is Quatre,” he added, letting go of his hold, petting the hair he’d pulled only moments ago gently. He leaned in and gave Trowa a softer kiss, a sweet one this time. “Stay with me, Trowa,” he whispered against those sweet lips.

“As your whore?” Trowa asked, his nose brushing against Quatre’s. There had to be a catch… there was always a catch.

“As my lover,” Quatre responded. It was _his_ turn to sound vulnerable.

Trowa’s strong arms wrapped around him tightly, nearly crushing Quatre against his chest. The things he’d begun to feel for Quatre Winner weren’t one sided after all. He held the smaller man for a long time, thanking his lucky stars for putting Quatre in his life. When he finally loosened his hold, it was Trowa that initiated the kiss. “Anything you want, my angel,” he whispered.

As Trowa leaned in to kiss Quatre senseless one more time, Quatre made a mental note to make sure he sent Heero’s S.O. – no… he needed to make sure he sent _DUO_ a thank you gift. While he normally hated surprises, this one was one he hoped to keep for a very long time to come.

 


End file.
